Misplaced
by BrynnH87
Summary: Another angsty story set in my "Lost and Found" Universe. Set after "Found" and "Discovered". Now Complete.
1. Chapter 1

Misplaced

A/N: Thanks to my beta, Punky.

Disclaimer: It's mother's day, and though it would have been a _fantastic_ mother's day present, alas, no one actually gave me the rights to anything related to Sentinel. So, drats, I still don't own them.

**Misplaced**

It had been over a year since I finally found Jimmy. In that time, the staff had seen a tremendous change in the boy's communication and social skills, of course, but also a huge leap in his academic skills. He had been taking in everything in his environment, all along…all of the lessons in class, information on TV, everything anybody said. But, because he was fighting so hard to control his senses all by himself, no one really saw how much he had learned and how much more – so very much more – he was ready to learn.

His teacher was delighted at first to see his rapid progress, but then was dismayed to realize how much more "in there" the boy had been than anyone had ever given him credit for. He was a bright boy…_very _bright. He had needed every ounce of that intelligence to try to figure out ways to deal with his run-away senses all alone and not completely lose himself in the process. It was partially because of that intelligence that his personality survived until someone got there to help him with his senses. All the staff here had done their best and knew he was intelligent in his own way, but they had honestly never been given any reason to think he was ready for higher academics.

Once his teacher realized he had been capable of learning more all this time, she was heart-broken. Being the loving person she was, she had a very hard time with the idea that she hadn't truly been meeting this student's needs.

Of course, as I told her, she _had_ met the needs he had _at the time_. He probably would have taken in more if he had been offered more, but he had been in no position then to do _anything_ with the information. All of his focus had gone into dealing with his sensory spikes. His greatest need at the time was to have as controlled an environment as possible which kept to a minimum any unexpected or extreme sensory changes. That's exactly what all of the staff at the Center had provided. Now that he could do that for himself, he was finally ready for more.

His reading level had always been higher than anyone expected, but in the last ten months or so it had shot forward at an incredible rate. It was now part of his routine to pick up anything with writing on it and read it obsessively from front to back. Old newspapers, magazines, recipe books, cereal boxes and soup can labels…nothing was safe. And, of course, he usually had to share with me what he had learned from the reading material – often word for word with the shorter items. I now knew, in intimate detail, how to ensure the health of my cuticles, how to make 101 different crock pot recipes, how to find the perfect mate, and so much more than I ever wanted to know about _exactly_ what went into the food I ate. But, when Jimmy had wandered into the staff's private stash of magazines and then proceeded to tell me the top seven ways to enrich my sex life, Dottie and Anna went on a "smut-hunt" and eliminated anything with the potential to contain inappropriate reading material or just anything that we didn't want repeated numerous times in a large variety of, and often very public, environments. That pretty much reduced Jimmy's choices to newspapers and the TV Guide…as well as the dreaded recipe books and food labels.

So, one day, Jimmy picked up an old newspaper to read…unfortunately, it was one written during the whole trial fiasco. One thing I've noticed about Jimmy is that he doesn't yet have an age-appropriate concept of past vs. present vs. future, or true vs. not true. So, when he read that I had been arrested, he ran through the halls screaming for me. Thanks god I was working that day and that he found me quickly. I would have hated for him to have time to get even _more_ upset. As it was, he clung to me for the rest of the day. We had made so many strides forward, it was always heartbreaking to witness the backslides.

When we finally found a copy of the newspaper that carried Mr. Ellison's apology and included the statement that I was back with Jimmy and was once again working at the Center, and he actually _read _that, _in print_, he settled down a little. But, that whole incident was still fresh in Jimmy's mind when the news came on TV later that evening. Mr. Ellison was the current frontrunner in the gubernatorial race which was _finally _coming to a vote the next month – it felt like the campaign had already gone on forever – and it seemed that he was always on the TV now. But, that evening, when Jimmy saw him, he became very upset and started to cling to me once more. He was so afraid that Ellison would take me away again that he refused to let me out of his sight. In the end, I just took him home with me. We _both_ could get some sleep that way. Thank goodness that sleeping in institutional lounge chairs was a thing of the past.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0

The next morning at breakfast, Jimmy started drawing people I had never seen before…a woman about my age with long blond hair, and a baby. I asked him about them, but he seemed uncertain about who they were and that seemed to make him uncomfortable, so I let it drop. He didn't give those to me like he usually did now when he finished a drawing. He just tucked them in the back of his sketchbook and took them with him.

I found out later that he drew quite a few more in his various classes that day. He had stopped doing that – drawing instead of participating – but he seemed to be obsessing on these particular people right now. He had still listened to the teacher that day, as he always had, even before I got there; he just didn't actively participate. By evening, I noticed he was drawing a man… but he was never pleased with his work…he kept ripping it up and starting over. I had never seen him destroy his drawings before…not even those distorted pictures he had drawn of me, just before I got here. I wasn't sure if he was throwing away _these_ pictures because he couldn't really remember what the man looked like or because it was someone he didn't like, or both. I had a theory about who it might be, but I never got a good enough look to conform or deny my suspicions.

Over the next several days Jimmy started stashing his final masterpieces in a dresser drawer in his bedroom on the hall. He still had several in the back of his sketchbook at any one time, but he wouldn't let anyone see any of them so there was no way to tell if those he carried around were the most precious to him or just the most recent.

Either way, the boy was so obsessed with these people and these drawings that he brought his own cloud of tension with him wherever he went. Many of the children reacted to it, being emotional barometers. Jimmy had all but shut Ryan out- something he almost never did – and the younger boy was reacting badly. This normally quiet child was starting to act out, yelling and throwing things. Ryan took about three days of Jimmy's distant behavior and then he finally entered his friend's room in a huff, grabbed Jimmy's sketchbook and started shredding picture after picture. Jimmy was livid and for the first time since I met him – the first time ever, the staff told me – our compassionate, loving young man got violent toward another child. He tore the sketchbook from Ryan's hands and shoved his smaller friend away, forcefully enough that Ryan hit the floor. The younger boy, still angry, launched into Jimmy with fists flying. Jimmy responded in kind. They had both landed several blows before we got them separated. It was all I could do to hold Jimmy back, while Hank carried away a kicking, screaming Ryan. Dottie pulled the bedroom door shut behind Hank, in case Jimmy broke free and tried to follow. He didn't. As soon as the door closed, he dropped to the floor, breaking my grip (since I was in the process of loosening it) and scrambled toward the pieces of the destroyed pictures. He was careful to gather every one, even the tiniest of scrapes, and proceeded to try to put them back together.

"Wouldn't it be easier to just draw them again, buddy?" He just continued piecing together his treasures. Whoever these people were, they (or at least their pictures) were important to him. I was starting to get worried about this. He seemed to be slipping away little by little, getting more and more caught up with this obsession and less and less in touch with everything else, and I had no clue how to stop it. As far as I could tell, this whole thing had nothing to do with his senses, but seemed to be about his memories.

After several other attempts to talk him out of saving the remnants of the ruined drawings, I gave up and called to Dottie from the doorway to bring some glue. Once she brought it, I opened Jimmy's sketchpad to a clean page and suggested that we glue the pieces onto that, in the right order. Some of the pieces were so small, even the _idea_ of trying to _tape_ the masterpieces together made me wince.

Jimmy unerringly picked up the pieces of just one drawing and placed them on the blank page in almost _exactly_ the position they would be in the final product. He continued that process for picture after picture until he had four completed pictures again. Two of mother and baby in different poses, one of the woman alone and one of the baby from an odd angle (as if the viewer was holding the infant) that included hands of an older child – maybe a preschooler- clutching at the blankets, trying desperately to hold on to the no doubt wiggling bundle. I was pretty sure I knew who these people were now, and by extension, probably the man as well, though apparently Jimmy _still_ had not come up with a picture of _him_ with which he was satisfied.

Once Jimmy had tucked his newly restored treasures into the back of the sketchbook, along with the two that had escaped hurricane Ryan, he stood up and exited the room. I was close on his heels. He didn't _look_ like he was still angry, but I didn't want to take any chances. Jimmy had changed so much in the last several days (after becoming obsessed with these people) that I wasn't at all sure I could predict his behavior this time.

As it turned out, I needn't have worried. He _did_ make a bee line for Ryan, like I was afraid that he would do, and when he reached out and grabbed Ryan's arm, three adults went on high alert, and Ryan cringed. Jimmy didn't seem to notice any of this, however, and proceeded to partially lead/mostly drag Ryan to the table in the living room area. He more or less insisted that Ryan sit down in the chair next to Jimmy's usual one, and the older boy plopped down in his own chair. Ryan was clearly still expecting Jimmy to hit him, but the younger child didn't seem to be in so much distress that it warranted adult intervention…yet. Jimmy still didn't seem to notice anything out of the ordinary as he grabbed the large box of crayons from the nearby shelf, tore out a clean page of his own sketchbook and gave them both to Ryan. Then, side by side, they both began to draw. I guess all was forgiven, and the fact that he was able to include Ryan somehow, even though Jim was every bit as obsessed, reassured me that maybe he _hadn't_ slipped away as far as I had feared.

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

Misplaced 2

**Misplaced 2**

Over the next week, Jimmy must have decided that he had gotten the pictures of the mother and baby just right. He picked out one drawing of the two of them together and asked me to put it up in his art room at home. I decided to frame it before hanging it and he seemed to appreciate that. With that, he moved on to drawing other people, a Hispanic woman in a kitchen, an elderly man with a rugged face (obviously from working outside a lot) kneeling in a beautiful rose garden, the lady I recognized from his other drawings (together with a group of other ladies) gathered around a card table (playing bridge perhaps?) Several of his new pictures included a woman who almost appeared to be an older version of the blond lady, except that this older lady and the blond appeared together in some of the pictures.

After drawing all of these new people, Jimmy branched out into drawing what, to me, were unfamiliar objects: an extremely ornate hairbrush, baby toys, an elaborate play set in a huge yard. The drawings I found most intriguing were the ones that were obviously from the point of view of a small child: little hands lifting the lid of a diaper pail and dropping in a small bag (no doubt holding a soiled diaper), little hands holding a baby outfit, little hands giving the mother a bottle of baby powder. There were other pictures including parts of, I'm sure, the same child in various positions: struggling to put on his own shoes, pushing a truck across carpet, getting a sippy cup of juice from the fridge. One of my favorites showed little feet tucked up tight, obviously sitting on a man's lap, large hands holding the child and little hands covering those.

We had always wondered just how much Jimmy remembered of his life before coming to the Center. We were now finding out. I didn't know if _he_ realized these were memories yet, though. He still seemed somewhat confused about his drawings, and still wouldn't talk about them to anyone… not even to me.

The more he remembered though, the more he _wanted_ to remember and the more frantically he'd draw. He wasn't interacting with anyone at anywhere _near_ the level we knew he could. He hadn't stopped talking completely but it was pretty close. Dottie said that with the exception of the sensory spikes that were present then, his behavior now _much_ more closely resembled that of the eight years before I got there, than anything we'd seen since. I thought it was important for him to remember as much as he could, but this was consuming him and I had no idea what to do to help.

It was about _how_ exactly, or even _if_ we should help him bring more memories to the surface that led to the first real argument I had ever had with anyone at the Center (except the ones with Chuck, but he argued with everyone, so he didn't count). Dottie and I usually held the same opinion on most things, and when we didn't, she'd just calmly speak her mind and then let me make up mine. Anna and I usually had differing opinions so we often had heated debates with each of us trying to sway the other to our side of the argument. But, when we couldn't, we had always just agreed to disagree. I couldn't remember a time before now that we had ever raised our voices to each other or that either of us had ever so tenaciously stuck to our own viewpoint.

"Blair, I'm telling you, that's the only way to help that child!" By now, we were both speaking pretty loudly, if not quite yet shouting.

"Absolutely not, Anna! No way! We'll just have to think of another way." I raised my voice a little more.

"There _is_ no other way!" She raised hers to match. "If he can be in the same environment that he was then, maybe see some of the same people…"

"NO WAY!" Okay, by now, my voice level came pretty close to yelling. "I fought tooth and nail to get that man _away_ from Jimmy! There is no way in _hell_ that I'm going to involve him again! Why would he help, even if I asked him? It would be opening up a can of worms for nothing!"

"You still have some dirt on him. You could coerce him into helping."

At least her voice quieted just a bit, so I softened mine somewhat, as well. "Kyle told me, and I agree that we need to be careful with that. It would be all too easy to play that card one time too many. Ellison was thinking of ways to circumvent that as it was, and now his supporters are so strong, I don't even know if it would matter, anymore."

Anna looked like she was contemplating that, and finally decided to try a different tactic. We were in my kitchen, originally sitting at the table looking at all of Jimmy's recent drawings. We had long since gotten to our feet and were now actually in each other's personal space, but the pictures were still near at hand. She rifled through a few until she found the one she wanted, then held it up for me to see.

The few moments _that_ had taken had allowed both of us time to calm down. So it was with a much softer voice that she said, "Ellison cared once," it was the picture of the little boy curled up on a man's lap, presumably a younger William Ellison. "Maybe he still does a little…deep down."

I seriously doubted that, but Anna continued, "What would it really hurt, Blair? You call Ellison; see if it would be possible for Jimmy to visit his estate. The man doesn't even have to be there. You can ask if the cook and the gardener (if that's who those pictures are of) are still there. Seeing them may help Jimmy remember. Maybe Ellison has some pictures he could give Jimmy…"

I interrupted her as soon as I could. Anna "on a roll" is a force to reckon with and I just didn't think I had the strength right then to deal with it. We still adamantly disagreed, but at least our voices were back to a civil tone.

"The house probably doesn't even look the same" I told her. "I can't really see Ellison as the sentimental type."

"No," she agreed, "but I could see him as the 'I don't give a shit _what_ the house looks like' type. He's probably kept it the same just because he couldn't be bothered to change it."

This was a moot conversation. I had made up my mind. No _way_ did I want that man anywhere _near_ my little boy, and I _certainly_ didn't want Ellison to feel like I owed him anything.

Apparently Anna didn't understand that the conversation was over, because she reiterated, "You've seen how Jimmy's become. We can help him resolve these memories. It's just a phone call!" She must have finally realized that I wouldn't budge on this, because she upped the ante. "Damn it, Blair! If you won't call, I _will_!"

So much for civil! All hell flew into me and for the first time I could ever remember, I stood toe to toe and _shouted_ – top of my lungs, out of control, _shouted_ – at another human being.

"You will do _no_ such thing! _I'm_ that kid's father! I value your opinion, Anna, but you're not his mother yet! It's _my_ call!"

I'm not sure which of us was the most surprised at the venom in my tone. We both just stood there for several silent moments. Anna finally just nodded her acceptance.

We were both searching for something to say – I mean, really, what do you say after something like that. I knew the _moment_ that she found it, though. The slow spreading smirk told me she had ceased upon the _one_ word that I never meant to say out loud.

"I'm not his mother…_yet_?" She was standing there absolutely smug. Well, at least it defused the anger.

"Um…I think I better check on Jimmy." I tried to beat a hasty retreat.

"Chicken!" She called after me.

"Damned straight!" I conceded and with a _much _calmer voice I added, "Just please don't call Ellison, okay?"

"I would never do that, Blair. I don't even know why I said it. You're right. It's your call."

I figured that was as resolved as it was going to get, so I continued out of the room. It wouldn't hurt to actually check on Jim.

But as I stepped through the doorway, I heard her smirk, "At least until I finally _am_ his mother!"

I am _so_ in over my head!

TBC


	3. Chapter 3

Misplaced 3

Misplaced 3

The next day or two went on the same way, until Jimmy finally got several drawings of the man that he was happy with. That seemed to be a breakthrough of sorts, and he ran throughout the house hollering my name.

"Chief! Hey Chief!" Once he found me in the kitchen with Anna and Dottie, he continued. "It's my daddy, Chief. The man…he's my daddy! I remembered!"

This was more words at any one time than Jimmy had spoken in the last couple of weeks. "That's great, Jim. Can I see?"

He gladly handed me the pictures, and sure enough they each showed a younger Ellison in a variety of poses: Sitting in his recliner holding a young baby, on the floor pushing a toy car around (in this one, the little hand was back, pushing a toy of its own), swinging Jimmy around (drawn from Jimmy's point of view), kissing Jimmy's mom. There was another version of the picture showing the small child on the dad's lap. In this one, we could clearly see the father's face looking down at the child with undisguised love in his eyes. The man Jimmy remembered was completely different from the one I had met. This younger version was smiling, his eyes twinkling. He looked relaxed, happy, approachable…everything the older man was not. In each picture, his eyes danced with the love he felt for his wife and sons. For a moment, I felt sympathy for this young father for whom everything was about to go completely opposite to planned. This was probably one of the last times he smiled so openly. Shortly after this time in his life, his wife would leave him with two small children, one of whom steadily spiraled into a world where his father just could not follow. It must have been totally overwhelming for him. Up until I saw how Jimmy remembered his dad, I thoroughly believed that the older man had _always_ been the tough, self-serving mal-content whom I had met. I now had to reassess.

While I was getting lost in my thoughts, Anna had asked Jimmy if she and Dottie could see the pictures. It was Anna's comment that brought me back to the present.

"Oh, buddy, they're beautiful."

"That's my daddy and this…" he took, several more pictures out of his sketchbook and showed us the appropriate one as he spoke, "is my mommy, and baby Steven. This is Sally…she's our mommy when mommy's not home and this is Ed. He makes _beautiful_ flowers! I can't touch though, because they bite. Ed has magic, though, so the flowers don't bite him. Maybe when I go there, Ed can use his magic and get us some flowers for Dottie…she likes roses!"

I could see trouble coming with the past/present thing again, but Jimmy didn't give me time to address it just yet.

"Is mommy and daddy coming soon to visit? Ryan's mommy and daddy have visited lots of time, already. Is it my turn soon?"

Oh man, how do I deal with this? Dottie tried to help. "Not everyone's parents visit, Jimmy. Lydia's mom hardly ever comes…"

"But her grandmother comes. Oooh! Do I have a grandmother too? Oh wait…" and he ran upstairs to his bedroom.

The three shocked adults who had been left in his wake had _no_ idea what to say, or even what to feel, about this new development. We seemed to have our Jimmy back, but he was going to be heartbroken when he found out his parents weren't ever coming…if we could ever actually get him to understand that.

Jimmy rushed back in with another picture, "Is this my grandmother?" He showed us the picture of the older lady who looked remarkably like his mother…the one I had thought probably _was_, indeed, his grandmother.

I opted for honesty. "I'm not sure, bud. She sure looks enough like your mom. Probably is."

"Good! She can visit then, instead of parents…like Lydia's!"

Anna tried a different tactic hoping to get through to him. "Hey Jim, remember when we went to the judge's room?"

Jimmy nodded. "The man with the swinging clock."

"Yep." Anna continued, "Remember he said _Blair_ was your daddy now. And _he always_ visits."

Jimmy looked a little puzzled. "He's my Chief. He's always here. But _this_ is my daddy." He tapped one of the pictures on the table. "I remember now, so Daddy can come back now. That judge-man said that daddies always love you and take care of you. How can Daddy do that if he's not _here_?"

Anna put her hand on my shoulder, offering moral support, but apparently had no more of an idea what to say than I did. I tried anyway.

"Jim, you remember the other man who was in the Judge's room?"

He nodded again, "The noisy man."

"That was your first daddy, bud. It's _my_ turn to be your daddy now."

Anna squeezed my shoulder. Apparently she liked my explanation. Didn't work though.

"Nope!" Jimmy was absolutely confident, and tapped the picture again. "_This_ is my first daddy! That noisy man is nothing like my daddy!"

He had me there. Jimmy really didn't have a very good concept of change over time, so there was just no easy way for him to reconcile his memories of this loving father with the bitter, angry, old man who had been in the judge's chambers.

Meanwhile, Anna had retrieved from the kitchen drawer, the articles about the trial and the aftermath that we kept hand now, in case Jim needed to see them again.

"Look here, bud," she started. "This article says right her in writing that William Ellison, this man right here," she pointed to the publicity shot of the man, "is the father of Jimmy Ellison," she pointed to the picture of Jim ripping into the presents his father had brought to the hospital.'

"Yeah," I jumped in. "He even told you he was your daddy, remember?"

Jimmy thought about this for a while. He usually believed anything in print so I thought we had him.

"He must be my _second_ Daddy, then, and Chief is my third, cause this man," he tapped the paper, "Doesn't look like my first daddy," he tapped his picture and stood his ground.

"Jimmy," Dottie tried to rescue me, "People change over the years, honey." Nope, he was having none of it. "Come with me. I want to show you something."

She led us to her house, into her living room, and got a large photo album from a shelf there. She opened it and leafed through it until she found the page she wanted.

"See honey?" She got Jimmy's attention and the pointed to a picture of an adorable four year old. "This is you when you first came to live with us at the Center."

"Kids are _supposed_ to change. Not daddies, though." Still not buying it for a second.

So, Dottie continued. "Look at this one, though." She pointed to another picture. "This is me and you on the first field trip you took with us. See how different I look? I've gained weight, my hair is grayer…"

"Same eyes, though!" Jimmy hit the nail on the head. "Those two men have different eyes. My daddy's eyes are all twinkly and happy, but _that_ man's eyes are mean and all mad at stuff."

We weren't getting anywhere with this. He still wanted his 'real' father and right at that moment, I would have given anything to produce the man for him. Jimmy wasn't finished, though, and wandered even farther into impossible territory.

"Where's my mommy?" Tapping his drawing of her, he continued, "Is she gonna come see me soon, and will Grandma bring me cookies like Lydia's grandmother? I _remember _now! They can come visit now, 'cause I _remember_!"

He honestly thought that the only reason they hadn't already come was because he hadn't remembered them before this. "Can you tell 'em, Chief? Tell 'em I remember now and I want them to visit. Everyone's parents come _some_ time. It's my _turn_ now. Tell 'em Chief! Tell 'em to come now!"

My heart was breaking as were those of the two ladies if the tears in their eyes were any indication. I just spoke the truth quietly. Even _I_ could hear the defeat in my voice. "I don't know where they are, Jim. I can't tell them."

Jimmy gathered up his pictures, gave me a look that conveyed disappointment and maybe even a feeling of betrayal, and he went to Dottie's kitchen to continue drawing.

TBC


	4. Chapter 4

Misplaced 4

Misplaced 4

The next several days got worse. Jimmy went back to obsessing on drawing as many memories as possible and spoke only when spoken to. He also started sitting in the window seat on the hall, looking out onto the driveway and parking lot. Any time anyone asked him what he was doing, he told them he was waiting for his parents to come visit. We all stopped asking.

Ryan decided it might be a good idea to look for _his_ parents, too, so he started sitting with Jimmy. We managed to convince the younger boy to leave when it was time for meals, but our attempts to get Jimmy to leave just upset everyone involved. At first, we just asked and cajoled, and gave up when he wouldn't come. That escalated to me _ordering_ him to come eat, which made absolutely _no_ impact. Finally, at dinner time of the second day of the hunger strike, Hank and I tried to manhandle him away from the window. He fought so hard that we were afraid we were going to hurt him. We _did_ manage to get him to the table on the hall at least and gave him some food we had on hand, having given up the idea of trying to fight him all the way downstairs. He just sat there and stared at the window across the room. He didn't attempt to leave, once I told him he needed to eat first, but he steadfastly refused to eat. Dinner time came and went, as did snack and he still sat there, stock still, looking at the window.

"Hey Jim," I finally began after I was sure I could stay calm while talking to him. "Buddy, I'm really worried about you, here. You _need_ to eat, big guy, or you'll end up in the hospital. You didn't like it there, remember?" It wasn't working, so I used a tactic I absolutely hated, but I saw no other way. "Hey, bud. Do you think your parents would like it if they finally came and they found out that you made yourself sick by not eating?"

That got a reaction, at least. "Is that why they're not coming? They're mad 'cause I'm not listening?"

"No buddy, that's _not_ why they're not coming, but, wherever they are, I can't imagine they want you to starve yourself."

"Can I eat in the window?"

"Sure bud, why not." I admitted defeat, "as long as you eat, I guess it doesn't really matter _where_ you eat."

"Okay!" He grabbed his apple and graham crackers and headed back to the window. From then on, we just brought his meals to the window. During that first Friday evening and throughout that weekend, it didn't really matter that he wouldn't leave the window to do anything else. I just stayed on the hall with Jim and Ryan and the other staff took the rest of the children to whatever activity was planned.

But, soon it was Monday, and Jim refused to go to class. I was feeling particularly inept at this point. All the other kids had behavior programs in place to deal with this type of refusal, but Jimmy had no such program. He'd never really needed it. He had always been reasonably well behaved except for the sensory spikes and everyone just dealt with each of those individually as they came. We were all caught totally unprepared for a willfully disobedient Jimmy.

Monday came and went and Jimmy was still in the window. We had all been in the staff room for over an hour, batting about ideas but hadn't gotten very far. Nothing seemed like it even had a _hope_ of working.

Finally, we all just agreed to continue to think about it and everyone filed out of the room to go do other, more productive things. Anna stayed behind. I wasn't sure I wanted to hear anything she felt she needed to say in private. I was feeling particularly defeated already and just had no strength left with which to get into an argument.

"Blair," she began as she approached my chair as I sat at the table, my head in my hands. "You know what _my_ suggestion is, and I know you don't want to talk about it, but…"

"Then let's not, Anna," I interrupted, not looking up from the table.

"Nope, not an option. You're a big boy; you can deal with talking about unsavory things."

"Maybe, but I'd really rather not."

"Tough."

Recognizing yet another defeat, I looked up at her, meeting her eyes to signify that she could continue. I _did_ know what she was going to say, but I guessed it didn't hurt to hear her out (again) and say 'no' one more time.

She sat down sideways in the chair next to mine and put her hand on my shoulder.

"Look, Blair," she kept her voice calm and sympathetic, "I know you're scared of Ellison, but…"

I didn't _quite_ shout, "I'm _not_ scared of Ellison…"

"Okay, more scared of what he might _do_ if you let him back into Jimmy's life, but Blair, you've got to admit, he's already _there_! Whether or not Jimmy realizes that his daddy and the man you and I loathe are one in the same, William Ellison is _firmly_ ensconced in Jimmy's life right now. His mom and grandma too, but mostly his daddy."

"_I'm_ his daddy, Anna! I gave up my whole adult _life_ for that kid. I gave up my career! I dropped everything and hunted all over God's green _Earth_ for that boy! Why isn't that enough?"

Wow, I'm not even sure where that came from. Apparently Anna didn't either. She dropped her hand from my shoulder and scooted her chair back a little to better meet my eyes. "My God, Blair. Do you _hear_ yourself? Is that what this is really about? You're jealous?"

"Damn it, Anna! What? My only choices are 'scared' or 'jealous'?"

"Or maybe both." She calmed her voice, and leaned forward again.

"Yeah," I allowed myself to admit in a much calmer voice. "Probably both…and frustrated and disappointed in myself…"

She put her hand back on my shoulder and waited for me to continue. So, I did. "All that time…all those years…I thought 'if I can just find him…if I can just get there in time...then everything will be fine. Just having his guide there will fix his senses, and fixing the senses will fix the kid. We'd be this perfect little family. I'd be all he needed…and he'd be all I needed, and life would be great!'"

"Blair," she said gently, laying her hand on the side of my face. "You didn't _really_ think it would be that easy, did you? You don't strike me as being _that _much of an idealist."

"I knew life wouldn't really be perfect, but yeah…I really thought I'd be enough for him. I was destined to be his guide, but I wasn't there, so he was having trouble. As soon as I found him, we'd just…fix everything."

As she talked, she started rubbing the side of my face with the back of her hand, and tucked my hair behind my ears. "And you _did, _Blair. You fixed a hell of a _lot_! Jimmy's a different kid since you've been here. He's made so many advances."

I leaned into her hand a bit and she cupped my cheek again, rubbing tiny circles with her thumb, as I said, "And then we get these backslides."

"I'm not sure it _is_ a backslide, Blair. He's never had enough energy or concentration left to even _try_ to remember anything before. I always thought he had just forgotten all about his life before the Center. I'm actually _glad_ he hasn't. Judging from those pictures, his mother and father both loved him very much once. It's natural that now that he can appreciate that kind of love - now that _you've_ shown him _how_ to appreciate that kind of love – he'd want to share it with the people who loved him first."

I dropped my head, completely out of my element. I had no idea what to do, how to feel, and I certainly didn't know what to say in answer to _that_. She ran her hands through my hair as she continued. "You're first in his life, Blair. Anyone can see that. That kid _adores_ you. He wants to know his parents, too. That doesn't take _anything_ away from you. Jimmy has enough love for everyone."

We were silent for a moment and then she continued, "He wants to _share_ this with you, Blair. He asked _you _to call them…_you_ to ask them to come; He's not trying to cut you out. He just doesn't understand why he can't have them too."

I brought my head up and she dropped her hand as I admitted, "And maybe he's a little angry at me for not making it happen."

"Maybe…a little." She agreed. "Doesn't mean he doesn't love you, though."

We sat in silence for a moment and then she clasped my shoulder and summarized, "You do what you think is best, Blair. But just make sure it _is_ actually what you think is best for _Jimmy_…not just you. You are one of the most selfless people I've ever met, Blair. It's certainly understandable that you would be worried, maybe even a little scared, about contacting Ellison, and really, I guess you wouldn't be human if you didn't feel a _little _jealous and even overwhelmed. But I've seen you in worse situations than this and you never once stopped thinking about Jimmy first…even when it could have gone very bad for you. I have _no_ doubt that you'll rise to this challenge too."

With that, she left me to my thoughts. After thinking about it, maybe I really was avoiding a call to Ellison more for _my_ good than Jimmy's. I couldn't overcome a sense of foreboding about all of this, but maybe calling Ellison _was_ the best idea. At this point, it looked like the _only_ idea.

TBC


	5. Chapter 5

Misplaced 5

Misplaced 5

The phone rang at Ellison Enterprises and a secretary answered. I knew Ellison wasn't likely to be there with the election this close, but it was the only number I had for him. The best I could hope for was that the secretary would pass along the message and through some miracle, Ellison would actually return my call.

"Mr. Ellison isn't here; may I take a message," the secretary continued our conversation.

"I don't suppose you have another contact number you could give out," I asked hopelessly. As I figured, she wouldn't give out any other number, so she reiterated her request for a message. As soon as I mentioned my name, her tone changed favorably. (I was surprised at this. _Ellison's_ tone would have changed _unfavorably_, but he must be giving his secretary the same information as he gave the general public).

"Oh, Mr. Sandburg!" She started. I hope young Jimmy is okay! I was as surprised as anyone else to find out about that poor little boy. I would never have thought Mr. Ellison was capable of that level of compassion…to shoulder that responsibility all alone, just to protect that fragile little soul. I was just as moved as the rest of the public, let me tell you, and…"

"Mam?" I tried to interrupt.

"Oh yes, forgive me. You were going to tell me why you called. Has something happened to Mr. Ellison's poor little dear?"

"Not exactly," I began. "Physically, he's okay. I really need Mr. Ellison's help on something, though."

After another paroxysm of words, I finally got the lady to focus enough to take down my cell phone number and promise to pass my message along to Ellison. (How that woman actually managed to get any work done was beyond me. She seemed much too enamored with her own voice). After finally accomplishing that goal, I hung up and waited for a phone call that I didn't really expect to get.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0

Hours later, I was surprised when my phone actually rang. I answered it immediately and was greeted with a gruff voice.

"Mr. Sandburg, I thought we had an understanding that you would now leave me _alone_ about that boy! You went to great pains to get custody. _You_ get to deal with the problems! I wouldn't have even called back if it wasn't for that busy-body secretary of mine. She'd have it on the 6:00 news that my son was at death's door and I didn't call his guardian back about it. So _what_ do you want, Mr. Sandburg!"

"Nothing much, really, Mr. Ellison." I tried to keep my voice calm even though just hearing this man's voice made me want to punch him out. "Jimmy has started remembering things about his life with you before he came to the Center, and he's having a hard time reconciling them with the present. I'd really like…"

He interrupted me. "That boy can't possibly remember anything from that far back. He didn't even remember me at the hospital and he had just seen me in court."

"He remembered you from court." I corrected. He still did, but only as 'the noisy man'. As much as I'd have loved to take Ellison down a peg or two with _that_ information, I refrained…Jimmy needed his help. Pissing him off (more than he already seemed to be) would be counterproductive. So, I continued civilly. "He remembers you as 'daddy' too, but he remembers the _younger_ you. He's drawn beautiful pictures of you from that time. We just can't convince him that the younger you and the current you are the same person."

"I don't understand why it matters," he countered. "I'm not in his life currently, nor will I be in the future. You made sure of that, even if I _wanted_ to be, so why do you _care_ if he can merge the two memories."

"Personally, I _don't _care, Mr. Ellison. As far as I'm concerned, you cut yourself out of Jimmy's life long before I ever could, so I wouldn't care if he _never_ realized _you_ were actually the loving daddy he remembers. But this whole mess is consuming him. It's important to _him_. That makes it important to me."

"He remembers me as loving?" Was that actually a shred of humanity peaking through?

"Yes, Mr. Ellison. God only know _why_ but he _does_ remember you as loving. He's drawn many gorgeous pictures of you…of how he remembers you. I could probably Xerox one for you if you'd like."

"Um…" Hesitation? From Ellison? "No…that's okay. I wouldn't know what to do with it anyway." Well, at least that was back to the callus Ellison I was used to. He continued. "What _exactly_ do you want, Mr. Sandburg? I have no idea how to convince the boy I'm actually his father."

"I know, Mr. Ellison. Neither do I, but I was hoping that maybe he could go to your house…maybe see familiar things if the place hasn't changed too much in the last decade. Maybe see familiar people if your staff is still the same. It would be great if you're there, too, but I understand you're a busy man, so I don't really expect that. I was just hoping we could expose him to something familiar from that time…_anything_ really."

"Sounds like you're clutching at straws, Mr. Sandburg." There was actually no malice in his voice. It was just an observation. Unfortunately, an accurate observation.

"Quite frankly, Mr. Ellison, I _am_." I admitted. "Jimmy doesn't handle change well, and he doesn't deal well with mysteries. These memories are changing his view of the status quo, and he's really having a hard time with it." I didn't mention that the poor kid was waiting for a visit from parents that would never come. I didn't want Mr. Ellison to think that I was asking that of him because I was afraid that he'd deny me everything I _was_ asking for. Besides, even if Mr. Ellison _would_ condescend to visit his son, Jimmy wouldn't recognize him as 'daddy' right now anyway, so there'd be no point.

"You just want access to the house and the staff?" He clarified, "I don't have to be there?" I agreed that those facts were correct. He thought for a moment and then continued, "On one condition, Mr. Sandburg."

Oh boy, here it comes. "What would that be, sir?"

"You owe me! I can't foresee how I might need you or the boy, but if I do this for you, you owe me if I ever figure it out."

I was about to decline vehemently and hang up, but I caught a glance at Jimmy still staring wistfully out of the window. "I have a few conditions of my own." He didn't immediately object so I continued, "I'll help out when you need me, _only_ if I don't' feel that what you are asking goes against _my_ moral code." (I wasn't exactly sure Ellison _had_ one.) "And only if I don't feel that action would put Jimmy in any danger or cause a situation that would not be in his best interests."

"Fair enough, Mr. Sandburg." He agreed a whole lot faster than I had expected him to. I was beginning to wonder if he might not already have a situation in mind for which he needed my help, even if he said he didn't. It wouldn't be the frist time that Ellison was duplicitous. Either way, he gave me the number at his home and told me to talk to Sally, his housekeeper.

Now that I had permission to visit the Ellison estate, there was something I needed to know first before I set up a time. I crossed the room to squeeze myself onto the window seat beside Jimmy.

"Hey, bud." No answer. I hadn't really expected one. "I have something to ask you and I need to know if you're going to answer me. Think you could talk to me while you're still watching for your parents?"

"I guess," he finally answered, "but I don't have to look away, right?"

"That's right, big guy. Just listen. You don't have to look at me."

"Okay."

With that, I laid out my plan. "What if I could take you to your daddy's house?" He actually _did_ look at me for that, but with such excitement in his eyes that I hurried to clarify. "He probably won't be there, buddy. Your mom or your grandma either. But you could see the old house, visit with Sally, and maybe see some pictures or something. What do you say?"

His excitement had waned a good bit, but he still seemed interested.

"When?"

"I haven't planned that, yet. Wanted to make sure you wanted to go first. I have Sally's phone number and I can call her and set up a time if you're interested."

"Can I call?" His face lit up. He loved talking on the phone.

"Let me talk to her this time. Maybe she'd like you to call another time. I'll ask, okay?"

"What if mommy and daddy come here while I'm gone?"

They won't buddy. Your daddy will know you're at the house, even if he can't be there, and if your mommy asks, he can tell her, too. Okay?"

He nodded, said "okay" and went back to watching.

Man, I hope this works. Otherwise I just indebted myself to Ellison for nothing.

TBC


	6. Chapter 6

Misplaced 6

Misplaced 6

I found Sally to be a very personable person on the phone. She had apparently been told to expect my call, and was very accommodating about the time of the visit. I arranged it for my next day off, which happened to also be Anna's day off. I have no doubt that if it hadn't been, she would have traded with someone. There was absolutely no way she was going to let us go without her. I was secretly glad for the moral support. I had let her talk me into this visit in the first place, and while I didn't actually have any qualms about this visit in and of itself, I couldn't shake a general sense of dread…like I had set us down a path that was eventually going to end in trouble. I tried to shake off that feeling and focus on enjoying – or at least getting through - the current visit.

Sally met us at the door and was as polite and social in person as she had been on the phone. She seemed a little distant with Jimmy, though, like she didn't know how to treat him, how much he even _could_ interact, or what might 'set him off'. I had no doubt that Jimmy's sensory spikes had gotten pretty bad just before he went to live at the Center. Sally was no doubt remembering some of that. In addition to that, who knew what Ellison had told her about the boy, or how much she had bought into the public story of Jimmy being such a 'fragile soul'. I couldn't really blame Sally for feeling completely out of her element.

Jimmy, for his part, was at his most withdrawn. He stayed plastered to my side while I talked to Sally, reiterating my explanation for our visit. Anna launched right into the awkward silence that followed, as though Sally was a long lost friend. Their easy camaraderie soon helped ease the tension a little. Right about then, Jimmy started sniffing the air, like he smelled something the rest of us didn't, and his eyes lit up.

"Cookies!"

Sally took that as her cue to talk to Jimmy. "You used to _love_ chocolate chip cookies."

"Still do! Can we have some?" Jimmy's eyes twinkled, and Sally led us to the kitchen. I silently blessed her for her forethought. Nothing breaks the ice like freshly baked cookies.

We all sat at the table, nibbling on cookies (or in Jimmy's case, inhaling cookies) and just made small talk. Jimmy was becoming more and more like himself and soon was dominating the conversation with things he remembered regarding Sally: helping her make cookies, folding washcloths as she folded the rest of the laundry, matching socks and putting shirts in drawers. It was funny to watch them. One would start a story and the other would jump in and give more details, which would lead the other to another story.

"You used to make me part of the bed." Jimmy told her, and as confusing as that statement was to me, I knew that it would soon be explained by one or the other, so I just listened patiently. "You would put on the sheet that holds onto the bed all by itself and then I would jump on and say 'make me part of the bed'…"

"…and I would throw the sheet over you and smoothing out the wrinkles…"

"That always tickled, and then you would put on the cover and the big thing…"

"…the comforter and I'd smooth out the wrinkles each time…"

"…and then I would crawl out of the covers and there was always _still_ a _lot_ of wrinkles…"

"…so we smoothed them out together."

Jimmy and Sally both were beaming at the memory. It was obvious to me that Sally had loved Jimmy very much and had gone to great lengths to make his childhood enjoyable. She told us much later in the day that it had broken her heart to have Jimmy sent away. By then, she had long since 'lost her little boy' to the losing battle with his senses, but she said that from time to time, she'd still see the old Jimmy and had clung to hope that he would eventually come back to her…right up until the day that she and Ellison dropped him off at the Center. Sally had wanted to walk him up to the hall, but Ellison had just handed the screaming child to the Director and walked away, telling Sally that she needed to follow. She said she had always thought about visiting, but just couldn't bear the thought that Jimmy might not know her, so she stayed away.

Life in the Ellison mansion wasn't much better after Jimmy was gone, though. Sally said she had tried to connect with Stephen the same way she had with Jimmy, as the younger boy grew, but by then Ellison had started regimenting the child's life to the point where he had no time to actually _be_ a child. There were tutors and counselors and doctors, testing and observing Stephen for any symptom of autism. Sally said that by the time the boy was five, he was shipped off to a private school in the east and she had barely seen him in the last four years.

At some point during the day, she had shown Jimmy her personal photo album. There were a slew of snapshots of Jimmy in every conceivable situation, as well as professional portraits (several through his first year and one each thereafter, each around his birthday). The first three years worth of pictures showed a happy youngster hamming for the camera. I could tell immediately when things had started getting bad. Sally confirmed for me that it was indeed just before the boy's mother left, and that things had gotten drastically worse after that. There were suddenly fewer pictures of Jimmy smiling (though there still were _some_ at first). More and more of the snapshots showed a serious child, sitting in front of toys instead of playing, staring off into the distance or looking _toward_ (not at) the camera, his gaze unfocused. As the pictorial timeline progressed, the pictures of the smiling child disappeared altogether. The serious look became a pained expression. More and more pictures showed Jimmy with his eyes squeezed shut or his hands clasped over his ears. Then, suddenly, even those pictures ceased.

After that there were pictures of Stephen (as there had been all along, interspersed with photos of Jimmy) but far fewer than there had been before and in far fewer environments. The loving parents I had seen in the early photos had disappeared. After a while, snapshots had ceased altogether, leaving only one portrait of Stephen per year (no doubt taken at school). The happy family I had seen at first was completely destroyed. Throughout all those years of searching for Jim and the year since I'd found him, I had given very little thought to the other people involved. My focus had always been Jimmy. It honestly hadn't occurred to me that there had been more than one victim in this situation."

Jimmy had looked at the pictures for a while and had lost interest as soon as he had disappeared from them. He had pulled out his ubiquitous sketch book and grabbed one of the artist pencils I habitually kept in my shirt pocket and was now drawing a lovely picture of Sally (the current Sally, not the one he remembered from his youth. Talking to her seemed to help him integrate the changes and still have it be 'Sally'. Too bad he couldn't spend time with Ellison. Maybe the same thing would happen there, and he'd finally realize that the 'noisy man' and 'daddy' was the same person.)

After Anna and I had come to the end of the photo album, the three adults sat in depressed silence for a while. It was Anna who finally asked the question I had been almost afraid to ask.

"So, does anyone know where Jimmy's mother is now?" Jimmy didn't respond to this, so we figured he was hyper-focused on his drawing as he is wont to do. Sally didn't answer though. She looked at Jimmy and back to us as if to signify that she didn't want to say anything about that in front of the boy.

I took the hint, got Jimmy's attention and said, "Hey buddy, you want to go out to the car and get that gift we brought for Sally?" He got up right away, all excited and hurried out to the car that was parked a short distance from the house, in full view of the kitchen door. Sally started to answer as soon as Jimmy was a distance away that, for any typical person, would have been out of ear shot. I was quick to tell her that Jim could _easily_ still hear us if he thought to listen. She looked a little skeptical but disappeared into the rooms we now knew to be her living quarters. When she came back out, she had another album where she kept various newspaper clippings and such over the years. She had the book opened to a particular page showing two newspaper articles and a letter from Mrs. Ellison to Sally. Anna and I read the items with growing sadness. We now knew that neither Jimmy's mother nor grandma would _ever_ be coming to visit.

The letter, written just days after Jim's mom had left, stated that she just could no longer contend with life at the Ellison house. Jimmy, always a fussy baby, was becoming more and more sensitive to everything and was having horrible sensory spikes. Mr. Ellison began to blame his wife for his son's problems and was becoming more and more verbally abusive. Add to that another fussy infant (though not nearly _as_ fussy) and Mrs. Ellison felt completely overwhelmed and had fled to the one still supportive person in her life…her mother. In the letter, she had told Sally to tell her boys she would always love them and miss them terribly.

The first newspaper clipping on the opposite page told of a car accident about six months later. Jimmy's grandmother had died instantly and his mother had been left a paraplegic. According to the second article, she had been making steady progress at a rehabilitation center for the next three months or so until the day her PT came to pick her up for her daily therapy only to find her in her wheelchair in the bathroom with her wrists slit. I came back to my earlier realization that there was _definitely_ more than one victim in this whole situation.

I couldn't help but wonder what would have happened if I had just gotten here sooner…if I would have been able to keep this family together (keep Jimmy's mother alive) if I had just gotten here sooner. Totally unbidden, my mind started to relive that time in my life, looking for any indication that Jimmy may have started calling to me sooner than I had thought. Had there been _any_ indication that my sentinel's situation was becoming desperate _before_ Jimmy's frantic cry soon after going to the Center?

"Stop it!" Anna's slap (both verbal and physical) interrupted my thoughts. "I know you." She continued, "You're sitting there trying to blame yourself for not getting here sooner and somehow stopping all this. Just quit it! It was _not_ your fault."

She _did_ know me and she had a point. I _knew_ it wasn't my fault but I couldn't help wondering how many times this had happened. Surely I couldn't have happened upon the _one_ modern sentinel…the _one_ child whose family wasn't equipped to deal with his enhanced senses…the _one_ family whose lives were totally changed because no one knew how to be a guide to a sentinel with run away senses. I'd been focusing solely on Jimmy, but what if there were _numerous _children out there who had been misdiagnosed, mistreated, or maltreated and neglected? What if, instead of being just Jimmy's guide, I _should_ be reaching out to other children as well? What if I _should_ be training other guides to keep this situation from ever happening again…to keep families from being destroyed by what _should_ be a fantastic gift?

It was Jimmy who interrupted my thoughts this time.

"Hey Chief, help!" He stood at the screen door with a large picture frame in his arms, struggling to open the door without dropping the gift. I jumped up to open the door for him and he rushed his package over to Sally. "For you," he said, "I drew it. I remember now."

Sally looked at the beautiful portrait of herself and Ed together with the rest of the family, including a young Jimmy (that one looked a lot like the picture of himself that Dottie had shown him, and was the first time I had seen him draw his younger self in its entirety.) As soon as she saw it, she reached out to give him a big hug…then stopped abruptly. "Can I hug you, Jimmy?" She asked tentatively, no doubt remembering a time when hugs or random touches could cause the boy to scream as if he was on fire.

"Yeah," he answered enthusiastically, "I _like_ hugs now!" So, she hugged him tight.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

A short time later, Jimmy was drawing a picture of the three adults gathered around the table. The adults themselves had wandered off into general conversation only to be brought back to the topic of Mrs. Ellison when Jimmy addressed Sally, out of the blue, "Chief says this is my daddy's house. Where's my mommy's house? Can we visit there next?"

Shocked silence descended immediately. As I usually did, I just followed my instincts. "Your mommy doesn't have a house, big guy."

"Does she live at a Center?"

"No, bud."

"She's _got _to live _somewhere_! Right?"

I thought about telling him I just didn't _know_ where she was. It wouldn't be a _total_ lie. I guess it somewhat depended on what you believed about the afterlife. I couldn't do that to him, though. To the best of my ability, I had always been honest with Jim. I wasn't going to change that now.

"No, buddy. She doesn't live _anywhere_ any more." He was puzzled so I elaborated. "She died, bud…a long, long time ago. That's why she's never visited." I wasn't _exactly _sure that she _would _have visited even if she was still alive, but death certainly was a contributing factor to her staying away.

"She loved you very much, though, baby." Sally put in.

He didn't seem to know what to think, so I asked Sally to go get the letter…just the letter, not the articles. There's being honest and there's being cruel. Jimmy just didn't need to read about _how_ his mother died. Jim read the letter, and then read it again. He sat so still and stared at the page for so long, Sally asked if he needed help reading it.

"I read it," Jimmy answered. "She says she'll always love me. Can she still love me if she died?"

"_I_ think so, buddy. I don't think a mommy's love _ever_ really dies." Still being honest.

"But she can't visit."

"No bud."

"How about daddy? He still alive? He still love me?"

I wasn't exactly sure how to answer that. Ellison certainly didn't _seem_ to give a damn about Jimmy. Sally saved me from my dilemma when she gently answered, "Baby, it's really hard for your daddy to show love any more, but _I_ believe he still loves you very much….in his own way. He just won't let himself show it…I'm not even sure he let's himself _feel_ it…but I think it's there just the same." I was beginning to _really_ like this lady. She reminded me a great deal of Dottie, and Jim responded well to her. But he was still disappointed.

"So, he's not going to visit either?"

"Probably not, bud." I took that one. "I think you're stuck with just me…" Anna smacked me, "…and Anna and Dottie…" Sally scowled at me "…and Sally, of course. Do you think that could be enough?" Both women smiled but Jim was still thinking about it. He'd just remember having another family and he didn't want to give them up quite that easily.

"It's more family than _some_ people get, big guy," Anna added.

"None of you are gonna die or leave me?" He was still deciding, gathering information.

"We can't promise we won't die, Jim." I answered. "No one can…we don't get a choice about that. But I _can_ promise I will _never_ willingly leave you."

"None of the rest of us will either, buddy." Anna spoke for all three women.

Jimmy considered a little while longer, and then decided. "I guess that's okay, then." He gathered up his drawings and asked, "Can we go home now?"

"Sure bud." I answered. We all said our goodbyes to Sally, gave our promises to visit again and extended an open invitation for her to visit any time (at our house or at the Center), and we all headed home.

TBC


	7. Chapter 7

Misplaced 7

Misplaced 7

We got back rather late, so I just took Jimmy home with me. When we got to the Center, it was time to go to class. I was encouraged to find that Jimmy went without protest. I learned later, though, that he still hadn't participated much. He wasn't obsessed with the drawing and would answer if specifically asked, but otherwise there was a sort of sadness about him, according to the teacher.

I got to see it for myself when I took him to the hall after dinner. It was my second day off, but both Anna and Dottie were working so I planned to visit on the hall until they got off. Jim played with Ryan, had snack, even picked out special cookies for the three members of his 'family' who were there, but everything was done without the usual 'Jimmy-enthusiasm' (which Anna had always said was a euphemism for 'human tornado'). It was like he was just going through the motions. I hoped he would work through it in a couple of days. Until then, we just tried to be understanding. For all intents and purposes, he had just lost his mother and grandmother to death. He had asked on the way home the previous night about his grandmother and I had explained about the car accident. He assumed that was when his mother had died as well, and I just didn't set him straight. (Maybe when he was older I'd tell him the complete truth, but for right now, I just didn't feel he needed to know. I wasn't even sure he had a concept of what suicide _was_ so I just didn't want to open up another can of worms right now.) So, even though the deaths took place a long time ago, they were new to him and he had to go through the same grieving process.

I was sitting in the Living Room on the Hall, watching Jimmy and Ryan teach Kevin (a new boy) what Dottie called the "We Don't Know Our Colors Game" with the blocks, when my cell phone rang. It was a number that looked familiar, and I even _thought_ I knew who it belonged to, but I hoped I was wrong. I excused myself and started down the hallway toward the staff lounge for a bit of privacy.

"Hello?" I _still_ hoped I was wrong about the number.

"Mr. Sandburg," a gruff voice answered. Nope, I wasn't wrong about the number. Damn!

"What can I do for you, Mr. Ellison?" After all, I'm _sure_ that's what this call was about. I had sold my soul to the devil to get Jimmy on the Ellison estate, and now it was apparently time for the devil to collect.

"I hear you and the boy had a nice visit with Sally. I hope that it helped the child's situation." The words 'because now you're going to pay through the nose for it' weren't expressly spoken, but the meaning was sure there.

"Yes and no, Mr. Ellison. He _did_ have a really nice time with Sally, but I think it would have done more good if you had been there."

"That wasn't the deal."

"I realize that, sir."

"Speaking of deals, though." Oh boy, here it comes. To want to cash in on my IOU this soon, he _had_ to know about this beforehand, even if he said he didn't.

"A friend of mine is the president of a bank," he was explaining, "and is making a substantial donation to the Autistic Foundation. Admittedly, he's doing it for PR and would like Jimmy to accept the check with me on behalf of the Foundation. I'll admit, I'm doing it for PR, too. People respond well to generosity and they love kids. Being seen again as the doting father won't hurt either and the election is next week."

He was obviously explaining all of this because one of my stipulations was that I would do nothing against my moral code. While manipulating the public's emotions like this was unscrupulous, it was not really immoral, I guess. And, though the 'doting' part was completely duplicitous, this man _was_ Jimmy's natural father. Even if I was now his leagal guardian, William Ellison would always be my son's 'first father'.

"You _do_ owe me," Ellison continued when I was slow to answer. "So, I want the boy there tomorrow at 3:00PM."

We went on to talk about details. Obviously, I had some concerns about Jimmy being at something like this with all the flashes and microphones and any kind of media circus like we had at the courtroom. Mr. Ellison did seem to have taken some of that into consideration, though. The presentation would take place in the bank president's office which was in the back of the building. We could come through the service entrance instead of through the main lobby. He would be exposed to very few people that way, even though it was a very large bank. Also, the older man had limited the coverage to one newspaper reporter and one television reporter, no doubt extricating IOUs from them as well for the semi-exclusive interviews. I had no doubt that he picked the two journalists according to who might be the most valuable in the future.

He said it wouldn't take very long…ten or fifteen minutes at the longest once everything was set up. With some explanation beforehand, Jimmy should be able to handle flashes from one camera and the lights from the other. Ellison said that he would warn the reporters about sudden movements and sudden noise so they _should_ tell him what they were going to do before they did it. Even if they didn't, he was able to handle most sensory spikes now, especially if I was there, which was absolutely non-negotiable – either I was there or no deal.

It really _did_ sound like Ellison had planned well for this. Of course, part of our deal had been that I wouldn't agree to anything that I thought might be harmful to Jimmy in any way, so it was in the politician's best interests to assure a safe environment.

I _still_ had a sense of foreboding about this…probably because I trusted Ellison about as much as I would a fox in the hen house…but I didn't see that I had much choice. I _had_ agreed to help him when he asked - with two provisions - and those seemed to have been met, so I accepted the proposal with the understanding that this would, indeed, cancel my debt. He readily agreed. Of course, I'm sure he had quite a few IOUs still outstanding that he could and would use to his own best interest. So, it seemed as though Jimmy and I would be going to the bank tomorrow.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

As it worked out, Jimmy and _Anna_ and I went to the bank the next day. Anna refused to let us go without her and had even traded with Dottie to be able to go. I was somewhat surprised that Dottie didn't get someone else to work Anna's shift and come along herself, but, it was just the three of us.

I had explained the whole thing to Jim the night before, but we went over it once more in the car. He seemed to be fine with it. He still wasn't really his enthusiastic self - I would have thought he'd see this as an adventure – but he didn't seem upset by the disruption of his usual schedule, either, so I guess that was about as good as I could hope for. We had told him that the 'noisy man' would be there, and had tried, once again, to get him to realize that that man was actually his dad. Still no luck there, but at least it didn't seem to bother him that the 'noisy man' was going to be there – well, at least not after we assured him that the man promised _not_ to be noisy that day.

So, when we finally arrived at the back entrance of the bank, everything seemed to be going smoothly. _I_ still hated the whole idea but no one else seemed bothered so I tried to set aside my anxiety.

Ellison greeted us at the service entrance with his best 'public' face. He smiled and shook hands with Anna and me, then knelt down to talk to Jimmy.

"Well, hello there little fellow." Jimmy rolled his eyes at the condescension in Ellison's voice, and I had to subtly elbow the boy to get him to be polite.

"Hello, sir," Jimmy finally responded.

Ellison stood up and directed his next comment to me. "That's great. He's having a good day, today. I doubt anyone will ask him to speak, but it's good to know he _can_ today if we need him to."

He was talking about Jimmy as if he was a prized trained monkey and I wanted to smack him. Anna placed her hand on my arm, but given the look on her face, I wasn't sure if it was to keep _me_ from hitting the man or to give her something else to do with her hands so _she_ didn't. Jimmy just rolled his eyes again and looked exasperated.

The older man didn't seem to notice any of this and led us to the bank president's office where the reporters were already set up. Everyone had been talking to each other when we walked in, but as soon as they saw us, silence fell over the room like an anvil. Apparently Ellison had done a little _too_ good a job of telling everyone how sensitive to sound Jimmy was.

It was the bank president himself, Mr. Leighton, who tentatively broke the silence. "Well, hello Sport," The man almost whispered and approached Jimmy as if he was a wild animal ready to bolt. I blamed Ellison for the man's attitude. Jimmy looked fine t me – albeit a little annoyed at being babied. "Can you come over here and stand with your daddy and me?" The banker continued in that condescending voice. Jimmy seemed to be used to the tone of voice by now, but the words got his attention.

"My daddy is here?" He looked up at me with such hope in his eyes that it broke my heart.

I _knew_ he wouldn't accept my explanation, but I pointed to Ellison and said, "Remember, we tried to tell you _he_ was your daddy."

Everyone looked at the boy with abject sympathy. Apparently Ellison had prepared them for this eventuality and they just thought the boy was too impaired to even recognize his own father.

Jimmy ignored everyone, though and answered me, instead. "Oh, you mean my _second_ daddy."

He seemed a little disappointed that his _first_ daddy wasn't there, but he was willing to accept the situation as he saw it, so I answered, "Yeah, bud, your second daddy." I guess it was better than calling him the 'noisy man'.

The office was surrounded on two sides by glass that would no doubt look out onto the bank's lobby if the blinds were not closed. The cameras were set up along one glass wall, aiming toward the solid wall, to the right of the doorway. Mr. Leighton and Mr. Ellison took their places behind the banker's pristine mahogany desk, which was sporting several awards and an expensive looking name plate. Behind the men, the wall was covered with awards, certificates and photos of the banker with a variety of prestigious people. William had said that he and the other man were friends. I could certainly see why. They were two birds of a feather. This man seemed every bit as stuck on himself as Ellison was. The banker certainly wanted to make sure that as many of his accomplishments as possible were showcased in this publicity stunt. I wasn't sure if there was any specific reason that the man felt he needed publicity or if he was just going for another fifteen minutes of fame. I don't guess it mattered though. At least the money was going to a good cause.

I walked Jimmy over to the desk and Ellison asked _me_ to have Jimmy come and stand in front of him. It really was going to be a close thing if Ellison walked out of here without being slapped.

Jimmy was standing about as far away from either man as the desk would allow, and no matter how Anna and I coaxed, he absolutely _refused_ to smile. Given the way everyone was treating him, I guess he felt he had no real reason to smile and he never really _would_ smile on command. Anna said it was because he didn't do 'dog tricks'. That certainly was the case today!

The photographer nearest me leaned over between shots and whispered, "That's okay. Mr. Ellison explained about autism. We knew he couldn't smile."

I wasn't sure what misinformation William may have given members of the press, but it made me wonder if these people even _looked_ at their own newspaper. The article about Ellison's visit to Jim in the hospital showed a beaming young boy opening gifts. I would think that that would prove that Jimmy at least _could_ smile.

My thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a gunshot! Close! Inside the bank from the sound of it. Jimmy screamed and held his ears.

TBC


	8. Chapter 8

Warning: This part and the next include some very mild mentions of situations that may be objectionable to the extremely sensitive

Warning: This part and the next include some very mild mentions of situations that may be objectionable to the extremely sensitive. Please see the bottom of this part for a more detailed warning, as it somewhat takes away the element of surprise in the story.

Misplaced 8

My thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a gunshot! Close! Inside the bank from the sound of it. Jimmy screamed and held his ears. He had been listening to conversations in the lobby because he was bored, so he had his hearing wide open at the time of the shot. I'll never know if it was Jimmy's scream or the fact that the idiot TV reporter opened the blinds on the front glass wall of the office to film whatever was happening, that alerted the intruders to our presence.

But, whatever it was, I heard one of them shout, "Who's back there? You two, go take care of that!"

Two men came lumbering back. They were wearing jackets, gloves and ski masks. They had even thought to blacken in the skin around their eyes so there was no way to tell even what color skin they had, let alone anything else toward a description.

"Look who we have here," one of them said, looking at Ellison, "the man who would be governor."

"And apparently the bank president," the other said, then stepped outside the door and bellowed, "Hey boss…hostages if we need them…valuable ones."

The first thug had used that time to approach the two men…and Jimmy. He used his gun to gesture the rest of us into the far front corner of the room…up against the 2 glass walls. Once the other had finished his announcement, he came back into the room.

"Hey, who's the kid?" He asked with more interest than I liked.

The other guy was directing all three people from behind the desk, toward the door when he said, "the gov's kid. I remember seeing him on the news a lot a while back. Some one raped him or something."

"I can see why," the other's tone of voice was positively disgusting, "He's a pretty little thing, isn't he? Give him to me. I'm taking him even if we _don't_ need hostages."

"You perverted son of a bitch." I launched at the pervert, but the other thug intercepted me.

He swung his left fist with all of his might and connected with my nose, then whacked me upside the head with the gun in his right, knocking me on my ass against one of the walls. Then he landed a kick and said, "You'd better just knock it off, 'hero'. I haven't killed anyone yet today, but I wouldn't mind if you were the first."

When he had started hitting me, Jimmy started across the room, yelling "Chief!"

The perv in the doorway moved quickly and grabbed the boy by the middle, pulling him tight. Jimmy wiggled and screamed, but even while holding the gun the guy didn't seem to have any trouble retraining the boy.

"Back off, hero, or the boy dies." Perv yelled at me, holding the gun to Jimmy's head.

I held up my hands, signifying that I wouldn't try anything else…at least not right away…and the pistol-whipper backed off, continuing his task of escorting the two older men toward the man holding Jimmy.

Perv said, "Good choice. I'd hate to have to lose my pretty toy before I even had the chance to play." My stomach didn't know whether to knot with tension or expel its contents in disgust.

Once Perv had the two men at gunpoint (while still restraining Jimmy), he started out toward to the lobby. Pistol-Whip returned his attention to the other four adults in the room. I don't know if insanity was a prerequisite for being a news journalist or if I just happened to end up with two of the crazy ones. _Both_ of them had been recording all these events as though they _weren't_ in the middle of what could _easily_ become a life and death situation. TV guy was filming away and Newspaper man was flashing picture after picture until PW grabbed the video recorder and used it to knock the camera out of the other guy's hand. PW then threw the video camera against the solid back wall. We were then all ushered to the lobby to join the staff, the few customers, the rest of our party and two more bad guys.

Jimmy looked absolutely terrified and was still struggling with all his might. Perv occasionally shook him and told him to be still but otherwise didn't really seem to be phased by the boy's efforts.

As PW deposited us against the glass wall that made up the front of the office, I listened to the conversation between the bad guys. Perv had told Boss that he was taking Jimmy whether or not they decided they needed hostages.

"You and your toys." The boss just chuckled. "Sure. I know better than to stand in your way when you see something you want. Just keep him quiet."

Up until then I had hoped that the boss would decide that taking hostages was too risky, especially a child hostage, but he didn't seem to mind at all. Not only was he _not_ bothered by Perv's unholy interest in Jimmy, he started to talk about the possibility of asking for ransom for the safe return of the would-be governor and a respected banker, or perhaps having them transfer the funds themselves. Nothing was mentioned about terms for Jimmy's release. If possible, I became even _more_ terrified for my son.

Acting on impulse, I caught Jimmy's eye and sent him the only message I could think of. I touched my ear while ostensibly dabbing blood from the side of my head with my handkerchief, then held the cloth to my nose (which was also bleeding) with all five digits on my right hand, and four on my left spread wide. 'Get the message, Jim,' I thought, 'set your hearing to 9'.

Jimmy's eyes widened even farther and he cocked his head just slightly like he did when he was listening intently to something. I had Anna move her head in front of mine – so that she could help with my head wound if anyone asked – and I whispered sentinel soft. Anna told me later that _she_ couldn't really even hear _all_ that I said.

"Jim," I began, "just listen…don't do anything yet. At some point, I may want you to fake a zone…_don't _really go into one, bud. I'll need you to be able to react quickly when I tell you to later." He couldn't really tell me whether he understood or even if he was listening, but I had to keep trying. No one was looking at us right then. 'Boss' and 'Other Guy' had taken the bank president to the vault on the other side of the lobby. Perv and PW were watching them, each still holding their respective captives. I _had _to get Jimmy out of there and away from that man as soon as I could. I usually pride myself on quick but logical thinking, even under pressure, but right then I was running on pure instinct. I didn't want that pervert anywhere _near_ my son, much less actually _alone_ with him, so I continued talking to Jimmy and outlining a plan that I had _not_ thought through at all.

"When you fake the zone, go limp and don't react to anything if you can help it. You can even turn everything to one for a while if you need to. Not your hearing though. I need a way to talk to you. I'm hoping the bad guy will put you over here. If he does, bring everything up to normal, then, when I tell you to, you run your fastest out the door we came in. You keep running until you get to a store or someplace with lots of people."

Anna told me later that if she had actually _heard_ exactly what I was telling the boy, she would have stopped me. There were _so _many ways this plan could go bad: Jimmy could get shot, he could lead bad guys to innocent people in a nearby store and they could _all_ get shot, _I _could get shot (though that one wouldn't have deterred me even if I had thought about it. The other ones might have though.) But in my panic to get Jim away from this guy because of what might happen later, I wasn't really thinking about what might happen _now_. The longer I had to watch that man with Jimmy, the greater my resolve to get the boy out of the bank…soon! I didn't like the way the pervert looked at Jimmy. I didn't like how he kept running the gun over the boy's cheek like a caress. And I _definitely_ didn't like the way he had been talking about 'his toy'. So, even if Anna had tried to stop me, I doubt I would have listened. I was beyond reason. I just had to get Jimmy away from there.

"Jim, fake the zone now, bud." Jimmy went limp so suddenly, that Perv almost lost his grip on him.

"Stand up kid!" Perv said roughly and tried to jerk Jimmy back up to his feet. I started to verbally intervene, but Ellison, of all people, beat me to it.

"The kid does that sometimes…especially if he's upset. He's autistic. He can't help it."

"Well, make him stop it," Perv turned his attention to Ellison.

"I can't," the politician stated honestly, "I never could." Perv was about to say something else when Ellison continued, pointing to me. "_He_ can though. For some reason, the boy responds well to him."

Perv turned to me, "Tell him to stand up."

"He won't hear me," I lied. "He's in a zone. The only way to get him out of it is to rub his back for a while, and even that only _sometimes_ brings him back."

Perv jerked the boy up into his arms, brought him to me and dumped him unceremoniously on the floor. Fortunately he had stooped most of the way down first, so Jim wasn't injured, but I'm sure it hurt some and certainly wasn't at all expected. When Jimmy didn't react at all, I started to worry that he had put himself into a _real_ zone or had turned his senses completely off. If he had, there was no way to talk to him and this wasn't going to work. There was no way of really checking one way or the other, without giving the plan away, so I just had to assume Jimmy had understood my directions and would act when I told him to.

Now that Perv's hands were free, he had walked over to the front of the teller's windows, where the five staff and a handful of customers were sitting, and was currently harassing a pretty young woman there.

PW was watching and laughing at Perv's crude comments. Once I thought their attention was sufficiently diverted, I told Jimmy softly to 'run'.

He instantly came to life and scrambled around the glass corner of the office and disappeared. That kid was _fast_ when he wanted to be. I mentally sighed in relief. Jimmy was out!

TBC

--

Warning: This part and the next include crude and sexually suggestive statements to and about a child. Nothing more than statements and mild physical advances even mentioned, let alone shown.


	9. Chapter 9

Misplaced 9

Misplaced 9

The Pistol-Whipper must have heard Jimmy leaving because he turned and chuckled. "Hey, Reese. There goes your toy!"

Perv (Reese, apparently) turned, mad as hell, and leveled his gun. Jimmy was already out of sight, but Reese shot anyway – just above my head – causing a hole and a spider web pattern in the bullet-resistant glass. Not being satisfied with this, apparently, he came over and kicked me in the ribs.

"What the _hell_ did you do?" He kicked again. I tried to keep my reaction down to a lethal glare, but couldn't stifle the grunt that escaped with the second blow. About the time the man landed a third kick and Anna seemed about to intervene somehow, I heard an anguished scream.

"Chief!" Oh no. Another scream, this time closer.

"Hey Reese," a man I hadn't seen before chuckled, "This one of yours?"

I was getting pretty disgusted with everyone's cavalier attitude about Reese's 'toys'. How many other kids had this creep done this to?

"Good catch." Reese told the new man, while reaching toward Jimmy. "You, come here. You're not getting out of my reach again." He pulled the boy up close once more, caressed him with the gun again and looked directly at me, "I _was_ going to try not to hurt him…too much. _Now_ I think I'll enjoy watching him squirm…" he tightened his grip on Jimmy's arms and the boy whimpered, "…and listen to him scream."

My heart sank. In trying to make things better for Jimmy, I had made them even worse. It hadn't occurred to me that even though they had come in from the front, their get away car would be in the back. I was out of ideas. I didn't know how I was going to get my son away from this man whose intentions were as obvious as they were disgusting.

I panicked and lunged at Reese. "You get away from him!" The anguished voice didn't even sound like mine.

As I started to rise, Anna tackled me from the side and Reese's bullet plunged into the glass wall to join its twin, instead of into my head as it would have if Anna hadn't crashed into me.

"You can't help Jimmy if you get yourself killed, Blair." Anna whispered.

Meanwhile, Jimmy had started wiggling, kicking and screaming to the best of his ability. Reese still had a strong hold on the boy, but now needed both hands and was getting more pissed by the second.

"Tell this brat to stand still and shut up or I blow a hole in his head, and then one in yours."

I didn't tell Reese, but if he 'blew a hole' in Jimmy's head, I'd _want_ him to put one in mine. Instead, I told Jimmy in a slightly louder than normal voice, "Jim, stand still buddy. You've got to be quiet." Under my breath, sentinel soft, I added. "I'll get you back somehow. Just don't make him mad, okay? Stand still and be quiet."

As Jimmy started to quiet, Reese snapped at me, "What did you just mumble?" (Guess he saw my lips move. I _know_ he couldn't have heard me.)

I looked him in the eye and answered, "A fervent prayer that you would rot in hell."

The creep actually chuckled. "Oh, I'm sure that's already in the cards. Not before I lay with my new toy, though."

Anger and disgust must have flashed in my eyes because he chuckled evilly again. "Man, what are you to this kid anyway? His own _father_ isn't getting as upset as you are about this. Of course, we'll be taking him too. Boss won't pass up a chance for ransom. Maybe I'll let the old man watch." Ellison _did_ finally react with mild disgust to that. I wanted to think that this whole thing was bothering him too, much more than he let on. No matter what I thought about Ellison, I couldn't imagine he didn't feel _something_ about the prospect of a child being hurt like that. I hope his apparent indifference was due only to a well developed poker face. But then, with Ellison, who knew?

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

Agonizing minutes went by before Boss and Other Guy returned with the banker and sacks full of loot. Just then New Guy came running back in from the alley.

"Sirens, boss." He panted, "Far off but headed this way."

I sent up a special prayer of blessing for the quick thinking soul who managed to press the silent alarm.

Boss pushed the banker fully into Other Guy's arms, grabbed up the loot in a firmer grip and started rushing toward the back door, bidding the others to follow. I made one final lunge as Reese passed with my son in tow. All I got for my efforts was a foot in the face and a re-bloodied nose.

Jimmy immediately started to flail and scream again. The kid might not have the life experience to know _exactly_ what this creep had in mind, but he knew it wasn't good, and he knew that he was being taken away from me. Plus, he knew that I'd just been hurt again. No amount of direction, even from me, was going to make him be still, now. So I didn't even try.

Instead, I whispered (while holding my nose, consequently covering my mouth). "I'll get you out, Jim. Somehow, I'll find you."

Jimmy reached back desperately and screamed "Chief!"

My heart broke and I fought tears, trying to be strong for Jimmy. Anna didn't bother fighting. Tears were streaming down her face as freely as they were on Jimmy's.

"I'll get you out Jim." I promised, sentinel soft, "but if he tries to hurt you before then, turn everything off! Just go away!" The tears won now, but I knew Jimmy heard me thru the break in my voice because his eyes widened even farther. I had once made him promise he would _never_ turn his senses all the way to zero…especially not all of them at once. But that was the only thing I could think of now to save Jimmy – if not his body, then at least his psyche.

Jimmy reached for me again, just as Reese reached the back door. I had followed as close as I dared to try to keep Jimmy in my range of vision.

I was still trying to coach my son for this ordeal. "Keep your senses turned up while you're riding, Jim. Unless they try to hurt you. Notice everything. Every detail you can tell me in the jungle later will help me find you."

By then, Reese had exited the back door of the bank and arrived at the waiting van just outside. As I got what I prayed would _not_ be my last look at Jimmy, I told him one last thing. "Meet me in the jungle. I love you Jimmy. I'll find you."

Anna and I were both now crying openly as we dared to follow toward the door. I debated making one last lunge while Reese's back was turned, but thru the open side door of the large vehicle I could see PW sitting on a bench on the far side, leveling the gun in the direction of the bank door.

As Reese threw Jimmy into the van, a police car pulled across the alleyway behind the get away vehicle, still on the street behind the bank. The lone officer jumped out and shouted, "Police. Freeze."

Using his car as a shield, the policeman leveled his gun at Reese, the only felon not already in the van. Being a hot head, and apparently not necessarily all that bright, Reese turned toward the policeman and shot, instead of just jumping into the van himself. The policeman responded with a shot of his own, catching Reese fully in the chest.

As the pervert hit the ground, the van sped off around the front of the bank. When the policeman jumped back into his car, I thought he planned to pursue the van. As I ran toward the street, I tried to stay to one side of the alley so he could pass, but I _had_ to try to get to my car to follow, as well. I had to get Jimmy back.

I was shocked when I heard, "Freeze!" Somehow I knew it was directed at me. Apparently the officer had only backed the squad car out of the way so it no longer blocked the alleyway, because the policeman was now on foot, running toward my position.

I stopped immediately and put my hands in the air. Turning as slowly as I could in my agitated state, I yelled, "They've got my son! I have to get Jimmy!"

The officer lowered his gun and started toward me. "I called for back up. I gave the van's description and license plate number. Other officers are watching for them. You need to leave this to us, sir."

"I've got to…"

Mirroring Anna's earlier words, the policeman, using a tone that could soothe a wild animal, interrupted. "Sir, you won't help your son if you get yourself killed. Let us handle it. We'll do everything in our power to get him back."

He approached Reese, kicked the gun away from his lifeless fingers and checked for a pulse just to confirm the obvious. He called for an ambulance and the coroner and upgraded the search from bank-robbers to kidnappers. He then ushered Anna and me inside to join the other bank patrons and staff and started taking statements.

I stood inside the bank, starting out the front windows in the direction the van had fled. Jimmy was gone! At least that pervert, Reese, wasn't anywhere near him, but he was still just as gone…still in the hands of dangerous men.

TBC


	10. Chapter 10

Misplaced 10

Misplaced 10

The questioning took forever, and then the original officer insisted that I let the EMTs check me out. They had pronounced my nose broken and told me I could use stitches in the wound on the side of my head (where the gun had hit me) and they wanted to have my ribs x-rayed. I wanted no part of sitting in the Emergency Room for hours over minor injuries. I was pretty sure my ribs weren't broken – they were slightly cracked at worse, but I really thought they were just bruised – my head wound had already stopped bleeding, and there was really very little they could do for a broken nose, so I really just didn't see the point to an ER visit.

By then, Cascade PD's Major Crimes Unit had arrived to take over the investigation. The captain, a tall black man, seemed sympathetic to my cause. He said he had a son of his own, just about Jimmy's age, and knew he wouldn't want to sit in the ER if his son had gone missing. He compromised with me – told me to go to the ER, but that he would make sure I was seen to immediately. Sure enough, as soon as I arrived at the ER (Anna in tow and met by Dottie) I was x-rayed, stitched, and handed a prescription for pain killers. I had been right – no broken bones. The head wound took six stitches, so was a little worse than I had thought. And I really didn't intend to take the pain killers until Anna asked the doctor if they would disturb my REM cycle. The physician assured us both that they would _not_. He said they might make me a little drowsy, buy my dreams should not be interrupted. I still wasn't sure I wanted to risk it. We knew from experience that if I couldn't dream, I couldn't meet Jimmy in the jungle, no matter how much he called to me. But, I also knew that there was no hope in hell that I'd be able to just go to sleep with my son missing, without _some_ kind of help. So, I didn't see much choice. That was becoming some kind of theme…my seeing no other choice.

At any rate, I vowed that _when_ – not if, but when – we got Jim back, safe and sound and unharmed, I was going to start working on other possible ways to meet him in the jungle on command. Meditation maybe or hypnosis. There had to be _something _else we could do to give me a little more control over the whole thing. But, now was not the time to experiment. The pain killers seemed like the best bet.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

Captain Banks had caught up with us at the ER and filled us in on what his detectives had discovered so far. Reese Angler had a rap sheet a mile long for robberies and assaults (with and without a weapon) but most disturbingly he had been arrested for _numerous_ counts of child molestation. He had spent more of his adult life _in_ jail than out of it, it seemed, and a good portion of his life _before_ adulthood. He was a registered pedophile, and had been checking in religiously with his parole officer, but apparently that hadn't kept him from pursuing his normal, disgusting life-style. I had no idea if he had been 'acquiring toys' since his parole, or if Jimmy was to be the first, but his accomplices today sure didn't seem surprised at all by the behavior, so I wouldn't have put any money on Reese having been a model citizen since his latest release from prison.

Angler had several known accomplices that Banks was looking into, hoping that one of them may lead us to Reese's current hideout (possibly the same place his current accomplices had taken Jimmy). Banks felt that it was quite possible that some of those past accomplices were the other bank robbers, which would then give us new leads on where to look for them. Banks had confiscated the two cameras present at the bank, as well as the tapes from the bank security system. He was hoping that by cross-referencing the list of prior accomplices with the heights and builds of the people on the film he might be able to zero in on a smaller list of possible current accomplices. He admitted he was grasping at straws, but right now that was all we had to go on. The license plate turned out to belong to a van that had been reported stolen, but the vehicle hadn't turned up anywhere yet, so the police were still looking for that. All of that wasn't much, but it was better than nothing. Banks told me he'd keep in touch.

I was even more desperate than ever now to get to the jungle. These were hard core criminals, and now that Perv was gone, I worried that Jimmy would just be dumped out of the van, or they would just eliminate the threat of one more witness. For once, I hoped that they bought into Ellison's view of the boy as completely out of touch with the world, and therefore harmless to them. For the first time, I wondered if Jimmy would even _be_ in the jungle when I finally got to sleep. I tried not to think like that though, knowing that if I allowed myself to dwell on _that, _I'd never get to sleep.

0o0o0o0o0o0

After I finished at the ER, Dottie had excused herself and had gone back to the Center to finish her shift and to update everyone about what was happening so far. Anna and I now sat in my kitchen, waiting for the pain killers to kick in. Jimmy had been gone for four hours.

Anna kept pushing cups of herbal tea at me, insisting it would help me relax even more than the pain killers. But, after the third cup, I said, "You know, Anna, all of this tea is just gonna make me need the bathroom. Not sure it's gonna help me sleep."

"How about a shoulder-rub?" She suggested. "That's always relaxing." I could tell she was just trying to find something – _anything _– she could do to help.

"Worth a try." At this point, I'd try anything. I _had_ to get to sleep to give Jimmy a chance to contact me in the jungle, and so far I was too tense for the painkillers to help, let alone the tea.

Anna disappeared and emerged from the bathroom with a bottle of baby oil. "Take off your shirt," she said matter-of-factly, and she poured some oil into her hands to warm it. "It works better with oil and bare skin."

I was willing to try, so I removed my shirt and laid it on the table. I had my back to Anna, and was wondering why she hadn't started yet, so I started to glance over my shoulder to ask. As soon as I had begun to turn around, though, she had her hands on my shoulders, so I turned back around to try to let this relax me. She kneaded muscles I didn't even know were knotted, and it really was starting to relax me, but then I could start to pay more attention to her hands, than to my muscles, and slowly it became…not so relaxing. It felt good. It felt _great_, but it wasn't relaxing. I was way too emotionally focused on Jimmy to actually respond physically, but I recognized the feeling and figured it was really time to stop this particular 'relaxation technique'. I'd have to face whatever this was between Anna and me sometime, but now was not the time.

Standing up and turning around, I said, "Um….Anna….ummm…….this is _not _making me sleepy."

Her face was rather flushed as she grabbed my shirt and playfully tossed it to me. "Yeah, it's not real relaxing for me either."

"Um…." I wasn't sure what to say. There had been something just under the surface between Anna and me for a while now, but this was the closest we had ever come to addressing it in any way. "Anna, right now, I need to focus on Jim, and…"

"I know, Blair. Now's not the time." She seemed a little embarrassed, but she said it in a gentle voice, not one of rejection. "Let's get Jimmy back first. Then, maybe…if you want to…we can talk about it."

"That's a good idea." It was. Jimmy was top priority now. Actually, Jimmy was pretty much always top priority and I couldn't help starting to think of what he might think if something were to develop between Anna and me. He really liked her, but would he see it as having to share my attention? Anna was really already with us a large majority of the time. As I thought about it, I realized that not a whole lot would change really….well, there would be changes…but none Jimmy would see.

Anna called my attention back to the present. "Go lie down and read one of those boring Anthropology books of yours. I know that would make _me_ go to sleep."

For the first time ever, I stopped and thought before I teased Anna. Would this kind of teasing still be welcomed since there was still a little undercurrent of discomfort? But, with as tense as we both were already over Jimmy, I decided that some _attempt_ at levity might actually be welcome, so I went ahead and said what had popped into my head.

"I know of an activity that _always_ puts me to sleep," and I wiggled my eyebrows.

She chuckled, the same as she always had to those kinds of remarks and retorted, "Hey, look at that…a man who can dream without even being asleep!"

I chuckled back, for the first time since Jimmy was taken and suddenly everything was normal again between Anna and me – no more discomfort, though I realized that talk was still imminent. I was still so worried for Jimmy I could barely think, but any normality, any laughter (however brief) just might relax me enough to meet him in the jungle so that I could _finally_ find out how he was. So I just couldn't resist continuing the teasing as I whined, "But really, it's a sure fire way for me to get to sleep and it really _is _important for me to get to sleep, so if I need to make a few _sacrifices_ in the process…"

She cuffed me on the shoulder. "Get your damned shirt on and get to bed."

Still chuckling, I started upstairs to go to bed….alone.

TBC


	11. Chapter 11

Misplaced 11

Misplaced 11

As I started toward my room, something compelled me to go into Jimmy's instead. Wolf already lay there, on Jimmy's bed, looking almost as miserable as I was because our boy wasn't there.

I sat on the bed, searching for something – what, I didn't know – perhaps solace in what appeared to be our jungle; perhaps assurance that I would be able to find my son in the real jungle soon. Whatever it was, being in Jimmy's room was somehow soothing, so I gave up all thoughts of going to mine and just lay down on the bed there. Wolf made her way to the top of the bed and snuggled close to my side - perhaps trying to find comfort herself.

I don't know how long I lay there before sleep finally claimed me. There's nothing that will keep a person awake any better than being desperate to get to sleep.

When I finally got to the real jungle, Jimmy, who had been sitting by what he called 'our tree' leapt up and ran to me. I was _so _glad to see that he had really made it to the jungle, that I swooped him up and held him tight. He wasn't too heavy for me to pick up when we were in the jungle. I had been so worried that something may have happened that would prevent his ever coming to the jungle. I was glad that worry was unfounded. I couldn't bear to even imagine a world without Jimmy.

I practically sobbed into his hair, "Oh, Jim, I'm so sorry!"

"I miss you, Chief!" He was practically crying too. "I waited here forever and ever."

I had no idea how long he had actually been here – how long his body had been defenseless in the real world- but it wouldn't have been long enough to worry about dehydration even if he'd been there the whole time. Besides, I didn't figure the kidnappers would be all that worried about his welfare anyway, so I was just glad he was here. Nothing could hurt him here.

"Did they hurt you Jim?" I had to know. Reese had been the most obvious danger, but the others had had such a cavalier attitude toward child abuse that I wasn't at all sure they weren't potential threats as well.

"Naw," he stated, "not really. Some bruises here." He looked at his arms and bruises appeared in the shapes of fingers around various places on both arms. "And a cut here when they pushed me and my head hit the table." He touched his forehead just above his right eye, but the cut didn't appear because he hadn't seen it. Our physical appearance in the jungle relied solely on our mental image of ourselves. I'm sure none of my injuries showed because I didn't want Jim to see them.

We talked for a long while, then. He told me everything he had seen – landmarks and street names until they got into the forest in the Cascade Mountains. He had lost his bearings then and said everything looked and smelled the same. He _had_ gotten a good look at the watch on the wrist of his nearest captor both when he entered the woods and when they had turned left onto a gravel road. So, we had some idea of how long they traveled to get to the gravel turn off (even though we had to guess at the speed).

Because his drawings were such an integral part of his identity, Jim had always been able to draw while in the jungle. He usually _didn't_ because we talked while we were there, but this time, his drawings were the best way to communicate some of the information I needed to know. He drew the front of the small cabin in which they were hiding, and the room he was in. He drew the face of each man whose face he had seen, and anything he could remember from seeing the others. The fact that they had allowed Jimmy and the two men to see their faces scared me even more than I already was, and I renewed my resolve to find my son…and fast. Intellectually, I knew I should wake up and call Banks with these descriptions. Emotionally, I couldn't bring myself to leave Jimmy yet. I knew he still needed me there. So I stayed and Jimmy told me what had happened so far.

After they got to the cabin, three men (PW and two men other than the boss) took the hostages toward the back of the building, where they almost literally threw the captives into a small windowless room. Ellison and Leighton staggered, but caught themselves just fine, but Jimmy was caught off guard and hit his head on the table that dominated the center of the room. The banker had helped Jimmy up and used his handkerchief to staunch the bleeding. Ellison had asked his friend if the kid was alright, but didn't speak directly to Jimmy and made no move to help. Instead, the politician pulled a chair away from the table toward the far corner of the room and sat with his head in his hands (elbows on his knees).

Jimmy listened to the men talking in the main part of the house and caught four names. But, suddenly, he became upset by what he heard.

"Don't give them the codes!" He addressed Leighton since he was the closest.

"What?" The man was obviously caught off guard, not only by what Jimmy had said, but by the fact that he had talked at all, since, up to that point, he had only heard the boy say my name.

Neither speaker had gotten any reaction from Ellison.

"The codes! They're going to get you to give them codes so they can move money and then they're going to kill you!" Jimmy was becoming frantic, "So you can't give them the codes."

"What makes you think that, kid?" The banker was still incredulous.

"I _heard_ them." That didn't help with the credibility, I'm sure.

"You heard…all the way out there?"

"Just don't give them codes! They said after that they didn't need you and they would kill you. They were arguing about who would get to do it!"

The banker finally just took the statement at face value for now. "I wasn't going to give them any codes, anyway. It's never a good idea to give in to this kind of people."

Jimmy had looked at Ellison. "You too! No codes!" Ellison grunted his agreement, but didn't look up.

For my own part, I wasn't sure what to think about the fact that the kidnappers had apparently not mentioned their plans for Jimmy. Either they really hadn't said anything about it or Jimmy hadn't wanted to tell me. Neither option boded well, in my opinion.

In what I assumed was an effort to take Jimmy's mind off of things, Mr. Leighton said, "Hey, your daddy tells me that you like to draw some. I think…" he rummaged around in various pockets and finally pulled a small memo pad and a pen from his shirt pocket, "…Oh, here it is. Why don't you draw something for me?" Jimmy wouldn't have noticed, but I imagine the guy didn't really expect much. He was just trying to keep the kid calm, 'like his father _should_ have been doing.' I wondered if that thought went through the banker's head, like it did through mine.

Jimmy took the would-be sketchbook and pen and asked, "What do you want me to draw?"

"Oh, anything," the banker was no doubt trying to think of something simple. "How about an apple, or maybe a heart."

Jimmy set off to work and the two men talked – or rather Leighton talked and Ellison grunted answers occasionally.

Finally, Jimmy said, "Here."

The banker reached for the memo pad with, I'm sure, a sort of 'humor the kid' attitude and said, "Done already?" as he flipped open the note-pad.

There he saw an exquisitely detailed drawing of an apple sitting on a table (As Jimmy told me about this part of the story, he said, "I drew it with a bite out of it, 'cause I was _really_ hungry.") On the next page, Jimmy had drawn a thorough diagram of the cross section of a human heart, complete with labeled parts and arrows indicating the direction of blood flow (no doubt something he had seen in a classroom or magazine, since I knew he hadn't been studying about this.)

The banker was flabbergasted, "I think your dad may have understated your drawing abilities just a tad." (Talking about understatements.) He held the drawings out to Ellison and asked, "Does he draw like this all the time?"

"Huh?" Ellison had apparently been lost in thought, but did look up at that. Once he processed the question and actually _looked_ at the pictures, he continued, "Yeah, I guess. Probably." Then to cover his uncertainly, "He draws more at school than he does around me." I thought 'at least that statement was truthful, if somewhat misleading.'

The banker apparently didn't try to dissect the answer and just returned to his conversation with Jimmy. "What else can you draw?"

"Anything I've seen," was Jimmy's truthful answer, but the banker was still less than convinced.

"Can you draw people?"

"Sure"

"Draw somebody for me."

Jimmy drew the face of one of his captors.

"Oh my," Leighton exclaimed when he saw the picture. He grabbed the memo pad, tore off the page and tore it into little pieces. As he stuffed the pieces into his pocket, he continued, "We don't want them to know you can draw them. It wouldn't be good if they thought you could give that good a description of them. Right now, they don't even know you can talk, let alone draw that well. It's probably safer if we keep it that way, okay kid?" He looked over to Ellison for confirmation, as though Jimmy would listen better if it came from his father. "Don't you agree, William?"

Ellison grunted his assent. Jimmy apparently didn't care one way or the other that his drawing had been destroyed. He always drew because he liked the process, not because he wanted to keep the product (with the notable exceptions of the drawings of his family). Being told to hide his abilities from anyone was confusing for him, though. He had never done that. Even when he hadn't talked at the Center, it was because he couldn't with the reserves left to him after fighting to control his run-away senses, not because he chose to hide that he was able to talk. I don't think I had ever met a _less_ duplicitous person than Jimmy. He couldn't, or at least didn't, lie or deceive or manipulate (okay, maybe he played the 'poor confused kid' card with me a few times in the beginning to try to get his way, but other than that…) Anyway, the only thing Jimmy could really promise Leighton was that he wouldn't draw the bad guys anymore except in his jungle with his Chief. I'm sure _that_ statement landed Jimmy firmly back into the realm of 'poor delusional boy' as far as the banker was concerned.

After that, Leighton asked Jimmy if he could draw him. The boy nodded and proceeded to draw the banker. By the time he saw _that_ drawing, he was less surprised at the quality.

"That looks just like me!"

"You can have it, if you want," Jimmy stated matter-of-factly. "Everyone just takes the ones they like, usually."

"Thank you, Sport." Leighton took the proffered portrait, folded it carefully and put it in his walled behind some photographs, no doubt trying to keep it out of the robbers' sight.

"How about drawing your daddy, now?" The banker nodded toward Ellison but Jimmy had already started to draw. Once he finished, he handed the booklet to Leighton and the banker exclaimed, "Great. Ellison, you have the boy trained well. He drew me as the old man I am. _ You_ he drew ten years younger!"

Ellison raised his head and looked at the beautiful drawing of his younger self. "That really _is_ me nine or ten years ago," he said to the room in general, but then turned to Jimmy and spoke directly _to_ him for only the second time that day. "You really remember that far back?"

Jimmy wasn't quite sure why both men thought this picture was of Ellison, but the boy _did_ remember his daddy now, so he answered in the affirmative.

Ellison continued almost hesitantly, "Can you draw your mother?"

Jimmy nodded and proceeded to do so. Ellison actually teared up a little when he saw such an incredible likeness of his long-dead wife. With one finger, he traced the jaw line of the woman in the picture, before continuing to speak to Jimmy, "How much do you remember from that time?"

Jimmy started to tell him some of the stories involving his mom and even his baby brother. Ellison nodded as he remembered the events Jimmy described and actually started talking about other events. He finally asked Jimmy if he remembered the time they all went camping (three week old Stephen in tow), and Jimmy was walking on the rocks in the stream bed. Jimmy took up the tale and imparted that he had fallen on his behind in the shallow water. His mother was busy with the baby, so his daddy came running to fish him out of the stream. Ellison told the rest of the story and said that by the time the man had gotten there, Jimmy was splashing in the water and giggling. Seeing that his son was in no danger, Ellison had sat down beside him, right in the water, and together they had thrown stones, built stone towers and splashed each other until they were both thoroughly soaked. Jimmy had then hopped on Ellison's back and received a 'horsey-back ride' to the tent where they both slipped out of their wet clothes and into dry ones. William had then held his son on his lap by the fire and the boy had fallen asleep, safe in his father's arms.

Jimmy was almost crying when he told me all this in the jungle. "He really _is_ my daddy, Chief. He remembers all the daddy stuff. He really _is _my daddy!"

"Yep, he is, bud," I agreed, glad that Jimmy had _finally_ been able to accept that fact.

"Why didn't he come to the Center? Why didn't he visit?"

"I don't' know, big guy. I think he was probably confused by all your sensory spikes and just didn't know what to do, so he decided not to do anything." I hadn't realized until I said that, that I truly believed that statement now – that Ellison hadn't _always_ been an SOB that couldn't care less about his son – that maybe Jimmy's special needs at the time had so overwhelmed a man used to being in control that he just made some _really_ bad decisions about what was best for the boy. Somewhere along the line, he must have decided that cutting off all contact and emotions was what was best for himself. Hell, he might have even tried to tell himself that it was what was best for Jimmy, too. He had been so successful at it, that I truly believed he now (at least up until today, perhaps) felt nothing for his first born (and apparently very little for his second) – maybe wouldn't _allow_ himself to feel anything.

It was heartbreaking to watch Jimmy struggle with the facts – to try to assimilate what he knew about his daddy into what he _thought_ he knew about Ellison. There was very little else I could say to help, so I just sat there, in the jungle and held him until we both decided it was time to go back to the real world.

TBC


	12. Chapter 12

Misplaced 12

When Jimmy left the jungle and joined the two other captives, Mr. Leighton was by his side.

"Wow, Kid, you had us worried!" He had been just this side of terrified seeing Jimmy in a zone for most of the night. Ellison had seemed to ignore it altogether.

"I _told_ you I was going to the jungle to talk to my Chief." The kid could get just a little petulant when he's tired.

"And that means you blank out for hours?" The banker was incredulous.

Jimmy just shrugged and proceeded to tell him what he had learned from his visit. "My Chief is coming to get us. He says the police captain from _major_ crimes is working on it, and he's very good, and his men are very good, and I told Chief what the guys looked like and where we are and the names I heard and what they said and all we have to do is 'sit tight until help comes.'"

Leighton chuckled. Whether from disbelief or because Jimmy had just finished that entire paragraph in one breath, I was never exactly sure.

"Sounds like a good dream, kid," Leighton said, having no reason to believe in a meeting on the spirit plane or whatever.

"Wasn't a dream." Jimmy said matter-of-factly. "I can't sleep if I want to go to the jungle. That's the only way Chief _can_ get there – dreaming I mean – but I have to be awake, just in a zone."

"That's where you go when you space out like that?" Ellison joined the conversation again. "You go to that jungle you and Sandburg were talking about in court?"

"Are you saying you actually believe he _did_ talk to someone? That he really _could _have told someone where we are?" Leighton asked Ellison, half wanting to believe, just still unconvinced.

"I'm not sure how much I believe it, but he and Sandburg insist they can meet there."

"You don't believe me?" Jimmy asked quietly and then decided he'd rather be angry than hurt. "Fine, but you'll sure be surprised when Captain Banks gets here with his men.

Ellison was surprised _now_. "Captain Simon Banks?" Jimmy shrugged. At that point, I hadn't known Simon's first name, so Jimmy didn't either. Ellison didn't much wait for an answer anyway. "How do you know Captain Banks?"

Jimmy took that tone he gets when he thinks the people around him are being overly dense. "_I_ don't know him. Chief just met him and he says I can trust him."

Leighton questioned the boy, in turn. "What makes you think all of this, kid?"

Jimmy rolled his eyes and spoke very slowly, "I met Chief in the jungle and he _told_ me." Okay, I love my son to death, but every now and again, he can get a _little_ self-righteous. Not that he didn't have cause in this case.

"There really is a Captain Banks in Major Crimes," Ellison confirmed. "I don't know how else the kid would know him." Leighton was still skeptical, but at least Ellison allowed for the possibility, which was more than I would have expected of him.

"You really _do_ meet Sandburg in a jungle when you 'go away' like that?" Ellison asked, seemingly actually interested in the answer. Jimmy nodded so William continued, "Did you _always_ go there? Even when you still lived at home?"

"I'm not sure," Jimmy answered honestly, "I _think _so. I didn't meet Chief until after I went to the Center, though." This was news to me. I had always assumed that Jimmy managed to call to me on his first trip to the jungle. Makes sense, though, now that I think about it. He would have been looking for a safe place to hide from his sensory overloads after his mother left, and Ellison didn't _immediately_ dump the kid in the Center. I guess the boy didn't really feel he needed to call for me until he was _completely_ abandoned by his family.

Ellison had been quiet for a while and then asked Jimmy, "You put _yourself_ into those blank-out things? You do it on _purpose_?"

"Zones," Jimmy corrected. "Now I can. I don't usually go into a zone unless I want to go to the jungle, anymore. But before Chief came I did – go into zones even if I didn't want to. Chief says it was my 'psyche's' way to protect itself." Jimmy leaned in toward Ellison and lowered his voice conspiratorially. "I don't really know what that means, but Chief says it, so it must be right."

"Chief seems pretty smart about this stuff." Ellison said. It's probably just as well that I wasn't there at the time. I would have been shocked into speechlessness by that vote of confidence, and I'm pretty sure a silent Sandburg would be even harder for Ellison to believe in than meetings on the spirit plane.

Ellison was speaking again, "What does your psyche protect you _from_?" Again, he sounded genuinely interested. Ellison interested in something other then himself…what a concept!

"My senses," Jimmy answered candidly.

"You're going to have to explain that to me, kid," Ellison prompted.

"My senses. They get too many blocks, and it hurts."

"Too many blocks?"

Jimmy adopted his 'my, aren't you obtuse today' voice. "Noises get too loud; colors and lights get too bright; smells that no-one else notices makes me sick; my clothes hurt; and I used to only be able to eat certain things because the tastes made me sick. Now I can eat more things, but Chief says I'm _still_ a picky eater."

"You always were," Ellison confirmed. He seemed lost in thought for a while and then finally continued. "That's why you'd strip out of your clothes all the time and scratched at your skin? I never understood that." Okay, now I _knew_ it was a good thing I didn't hear about this until later, because I would have killed the man. He _knew_ Jimmy stripped his clothes off and scratched his skin and he _still_ jumped to the conclusion that I was abusing the boy when he saw pictures of Jimmy naked with scratches? Not even Anna could have held me back had I been there.

Jimmy nodded in answer to the man's question and Ellison proceeded with the questioning. "So, if we had just dimmed the lights and kept things quiet and bought soft clothes, you would have been okay at _home_?"

"I don't know. The people at the Center did all that, but I wasn't really okay until Chief came."

"So, what did Chief do about it? Why doesn't it still happen?"

"Sometimes it does. Not usually, though, and even when it does, I can take off the blocks all by myself now, especially if Chief is close by."

"Take off the blocks means turning your senses down?"

Jimmy nodded. "And you need Chief around to do that?" Another nod. Ellison sighed in relief. "So, there really wasn't anything else I could have done to help!" Ellison was apparently letting himself off the hook. Jimmy wasn't so quick to jump there.

"You could have _visited_. _That_ would have helped. Almost everyone has _someone_ who visits. I didn't have anybody until Chief got there."

Ellison was dumbfounded and Jimmy decided he was too tired to continue this discussion. He removed himself from the other two and curled up in a ball to get some sleep.

The men set silently for a while, probably waiting until they thought Jimmy was asleep. Then Leighton asked, "What was all that about, Bill?"

Ellison pretended not to understand the question. "I never did understand the overactive senses thing. You'd have to ask the kid or Sandburg."

"Ellison, you _know_ that's not what I'm asking! The kid said you didn't visit, but you've led everyone to believe that you went there all the time. And do _not_ give me that crap about the kid being so impaired that he can't remember. I _heard _all the memories he has of when he was three or four, and _you_ confirmed them. I _saw_ those pictures of you and your wife from ten years ago, and I saw your reaction so I know your wife's picture was accurate. And I've _talked _to the kid! _I_ should be so impaired! That kid is as smart as a whip! So, I'll ask you again, Bill. _What_ was all that about?"

Ellison thought about it for a moment and answered quietly. "Andy," his voice actually caught. "It was about what was probably the biggest mistake I've ever made. And now it's quite possibly too late to do much to fix it."

Leighton just nodded, clasped his friend on the shoulder and mercifully ended the conversation. "Get some sleep Bill. Who knows when those thugs will be back in?"

Leighton followed Jimmy's example and stretched out on the floor. Ellison just laid his head on the table. And Jimmy lowered his hearing, wiped a tear from his eye and tried to _really_ go to sleep.

TBC


	13. Chapter 13

Misplaced 13

Misplaced 13

I jerked awake, still in Jimmy's room, so I was a little disoriented at first, since I appeared to still be in the jungle. After a moment or two of confusion, I dug into my pocket for my cell phone, since I had fallen to sleep in my jeans. The phone was ringing on the other end before I noticed that it was only 5:00 AM. After comparing notes with Jimmy much later, I realized that I must have actually slept after I left the jungle. It had still been the middle of the night when Jimmy awoke from his zone.

A groggy but gruff voice answered, threatening death if the call wasn't important. As soon as I identified myself, Captain Banks changed his tone of voice and asked me what was up.

"I know where they are," I blurted out, "well, I can narrow it down at least. And I can give detailed descriptions of three of them. I've also got four names – just first names – but I'm not sure who goes with which name."

"How did you come by this information, Mr. Sandburg?

"You're not going to believe me."

"Maybe not, but if I'm going to act on it, I need to know."

I told him about the jungle, mentioned that it was somewhat common knowledge and had been discussed in court. I tried to explain about the pictures Jimmy drew of me long before I ever met him, hoping that would convince Captain Banks to take me seriously.

"This is _that_ kid?" Apparently he had heard about the trial. Of course, who in Cascade hadn't? Banks continued. "I thought you said the boy was your _son_!"

"It's complicated Captain Banks. The public story and the private one are very different."

"They often are," he interrupted.

But I continued, "I assure you, though. I have full custody. He _is_ my son – albeit by adoption instead of birth."

"Oh, I believe you, Mr. Sandburg."

It was my turn to interrupt. "Call me Blair, please. I can't deal with a lot of formality, right now."

"Okay, Blair, then it's 'Simon', but not around my men. I have my gruff reputation to protect."

I allowed a small chuckle, which is what he was going for, I thought. My heart wasn't in it, though, and he quickly moved on.

"For some reason, I believe you, Blair. I even _somewhat_ believe you about the whole jungle thing. I remember the trial and no one ever came up with a better explanation of those early pictures. But, I've got to tell you. I'm not sure what I can do with this information. I doubt _any_ judge is going to grant a search warrant, let alone an arrest warrant based on mumbo-jumbo."

"At least let me look at a mug book. Maybe I can find these men in there. But, if you can't authorize your men to go look for Jim, I'll look for him myself!"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa." He interrupted quickly with a stern, but not angry, voice. "Just back up. I didn't say it was _impossible_, just difficult. I _am_ going to try."

Somehow I knew that. I trusted this bear of a man as though I had known him all of my life. It had been like that with Anna and Dottie too. Naomi would say that I knew them from past lives or something. Who knows? All I knew – all I cared about - was that I could trust this man to do all he could to find my son. And now that I could give him something to work with, the odds that he would be successful just went up.

"Give me about an hour." He had gone on, "and meet me at the station."

0o0o0o0o0o0o0

I went down stairs having stopped by my room only long enough to grab a clean shirt – and saw Anna asleep on the couch. I wasn't at all sure why she bothered paying rent. She was always _here_. Not that I minded.

Since it was so early, I had decided to let her sleep and just leave a note about where I'd gone. So, I was working around in the kitchen as quietly as I could to gather a few things I could eat on the way, when Anna staggered in.

"Did you see Jimmy?" She said in a groggy voice. For some one used to being at work at 7:00 AM on work-days, Anna just was _not_ a morning person.

"Nice preamble," I teased.

"Too tired for a preamble," She grunted. "Get me coffee."

I noticed that she had set the coffee pot to come on automatically at 6:00 AM, so I just stabbed the 'on' button. Her 'nectar of the gods' would be ready in a few minutes and after several cups, she'd be human again. 'As human as she ever gets' she would always add whenever I said that out loud. I didn't have time to wait today, though.

"Go back to bed," I told her. Coffee or no coffee, that woman could fall asleep at the drop of a hat. "I have to go meet Captain Banks – Simon; he told me call him Simon. I saw Jimmy. He gave me three good descriptions, some first names and directions to where he is. Banks wanted to see me in an hour."

"I'm going _with _you, Blair!"

"I don't have time to wait. It's your day off. Go back to sleep. I'll tell you what's happening when I get back."

"Like I could get back to sleep, now, knowing that we're closer to finding Jimmy."

I tried to stare her down, but that never really worked. She glared back and continued. "Give me five minutes and I'll be ready to go. I won't be pretty, _or_ good to talk to, but I'll be mobile, and I _am_ coming with you." When Anna puts on what she calls her 'hell and high water boots' I just get out of the way and let her wade on through.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

Just before the hour deadline, Anna and I walked into the Major Crimes Office of the Cascade PD to find Captain Banks waiting for us. He introduced us to a couple of his detectives and I sat down with several mug books. After what seemed like forever, I found pictures of all three men whom Jimmy had drawn and we were shown into Simon's office to discuss the case.

The detective with us gave the Captain the three pages he had printed off once I had identified the men. Simon looked at them and took additional pieces of paper from an opened file on his desk.

"Well I'll be damned," he said almost inaudibly, and then he asked me for the four names Jimmy had heard used.

"Derek, Tom, Jake, and Butch," I told him.

He explained, "We found eight known accomplices who have worked with Reese at various times in the past. We also tracked _their_ known accomplices." He tossed the matching pictures on the desk as he continued. "Derek Evans and Butch Campbell have worked with Reese on the bank robberies in the past. Both have been in and out of prison numerous times - with and without Reese. This," he laid down the last of the three pictures, "is Jake Roberts. He worked one bank robbery with Reese and Butch in the past. The other name 'Tom' _could _be Tom Rankin, an accomplice of Campbell's in a big robbery about five years ago."

"Why aren't these men in jail? If they're repeat offenders?" I asked incredulously.

"They _were_ in prison. They get out for 'good behavior' or whatever, or weren't given a very long sentence to begin with, and they're back on the streets until the next time we catch them. On top of that, some of them have really good lawyers who inevitably find loop-holes. That's one of the reasons I want to make sure that whatever evidence we have will stand up in court. I don't want these bastards to just walk again."

I agreed with the sentiment but had no idea how well – or even _if_ – my 'evidence' would stand up in court, but it's all we had. Simon seemed to notice my anxiety over this.

"We'll run with what we've got, Blair. I'm not going to let a child and two prominent men of the community stay out there if I know how to find them. If we find the place, hopefully we'll find cause to go in and we'll catch them red handed. _That_ will stand up in court. If we need to wait for a search warrant, we will, as long as we don't think the hostages are in immediate danger. Once we get it…" He didn't say 'if we get it', but I heard it in his voice just the same while he continued, "we'll go in _then_ and still catch them red-handed." I must not have seemed convinced because he added, "We _will_ get him, Blair."

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

Even with the possible identities of the perps, we didn't really get anywhere. None of them were known to have property in the mountains, Nor were they known to _know_ anyone with such property. So, it was down to Jim's description of the trip. I told them what I knew about Jimmy's location, based on what he had told me in the jungle. One of the detectives there was more familiar with the roads in the Cascade Mountains than I was and at least recognized the last several landmarks Jimmy had noticed before entering the woods, so we knew where they went in. The man, Detective Dawson, had said there were several gravel roads to the left in that vicinity that led to private hunting cottages. Guessing at speeds between 35 and 65 miles per hour, and given the six minute window Jimmy had given us, we narrowed the search down to three gravel roads according to the map Simon had rustled up. The next road to the left after the three target roads was a pretty good distance up the road which would mean the van would have been traveling at an extremely excessive speed. Going with the assumptions that they wouldn't want to attract too much attention, we ruled that one out, for now.

Simon dispatched three teams. Detectives Brown and Rafe would check the first road and Dawson and Conner the second. Assuming that the third road was the most likely, since that would have put the van at the top seed that wouldn't attract _too _much attention, Banks and Taggart would check that one themselves, with me and Anna in tow. He didn't want us coming along, but I told him I'd just follow him. He even threatened to have me arrested for "'obstruction of justice' or some such shit", as he put it. He really had no grounds to do that, yet. And by the time he _did _have grounds, I'd already be at the cabin. He gave in and we rode along.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

Brown and Rafe called in from the first cabin. It was abandoned. Soon after that, Dawson and Conner reported having heard shots fired from behind the second cabin. They had rushed to the back and succeeded in terrifying three hunters who were practicing with targets. Dawson reported that the owner of the cabin was only too happy to comply with a search, so apparently, if any of us would find anything, without expanding the search area, it would have to be us.

We weren't even half way up the winding gravel drive when Taggart noticed a flash of black thru the trees. Simon immediately stopped the car. Both he and Taggart got out and wend their way forward a little, thru the trees, until both got a pretty good look at the vehicle. Simon figured that was good enough. The van was definitely placed at the scene of the robbery. Simon thought it would be enough probable cause to have a look. He called the other two teams and they met us there. Banks decided that we should all walk as quietly as possible, until all the detectives reached strategic positions. Okay, he told me and Anna to stay in the car, and the _policemen_ would walk as quietly as possible. Like that was going to happen. No way was I staying in the car, and Anna's more stubborn that _I_ am. We all did just as Simon had asked until he heard Jimmy shout (from outside, by the sound of it) and heard a gunshot. All bets were off then and everyone ran toward the cabin.

TBC


	14. Chapter 14

Misplaced 14

Misplaced 14

Jimmy and his two fellow captives had gotten several hours of sleep after their late night conversation, but Jimmy was awakened by the sound of loud, angry voices.

"What the hell do you mean we've been made?" That was 'Boss'. "There's no way in hell they tracked us here."

PW answered, "Greg from the PD called. The Major Crimes Unit had pulled the file of anyone associated with Reese…even had BOLO's put out on us all as 'persons of interest'."

"Hell, _that's_ all?" Boss again, "I _expected_ they'd do _that_ since they had Reese. They'll never connect any of us to this cabin, though. No one even knows I've been seeing Betsy, let alone that her uncle's hunting buddy owns this cabin. It's a pretty obscure connection. They'll never find it."

"Apparently not obscure enough, boss. Greg said that long haired guy that was getting so wound up about the kid showed up at the PD early this morning and all of a sudden the Captain of Major Crimes was asking for maps of this area. Greg says they just dispatched three teams, all headed this way, _and_ they put APB's out on four of the five of us…everyone except Alan. That's it, just those four…not all known accomplices. They're not just grasping at straws now. They know who we are and where we're hiding."

"Shit," Apparently Boss was elegant when riled. "Go wake the others and get the hostages. We're moving to Plan B."

"Why take the chance with the hostages any longer? Three bullets would solve all the problems."

"_That's_ why _I'm_ the boss. If they already have our names, we can't afford to have them find corpses in a place with our fingerprints all over it. I don't know about you, but _I_ haven't been wearing gloves the whole time we've been here."

"And we don't have time to dispose of the bodies."

"Right, and even if we did, I don't want a lot of _blood_ found in a place with my fingerprints, either."

"We're not going to bother trying to extort money from them at this point, are we?" PW seemed incredulous.

"No, you're right about how to solve the problems…just not here. Now go get them!"

Jimmy leapt into action. "They're coming!" He started shaking the two men. "Wake up. Wake up! They're taking us away and my Chief won't find us. Then they're going to shoot us! I heard them! We have to leave!"

"Jimmy!" Ellison grabbed the kid's shoulders and shook him a little. "Calm down!"

"We don't have _time _for you not to believe me!" Jimmy was practically sobbing.

"I believe you, kid! But it's not going to help anything for us to let our emotions get out of control. Calm down!"

Jimmy was still on the verge of tears, but was trying to rein it in. Ellison continued to take charge. "None of us can go off half-cocked here!" His glance included Leighton. "I'll look for an opening and then we can act, but _no one_ moves without my say so!" Leighton readily nodded. Having absolutely no clue how to get out of this, he was more than willing to yield to Ellison's leadership. Jimmy wasn't so quick to agree though, so William leveled his glare at the boy and said, "Got it?" Jimmy glared back, but grudgingly nodded.

Just then PW and two others barged in and addressed the three hostages.

"Wakey, wakey." PW sing-songed. "Time to go on a little trip!"

The two other perps grabbed one man each, but when PW moved to get Jimmy, the boy lunged for the door. So much for actually listening to Ellison. Jimmy always did have a mind of his own and Ellison had done nothing to earn blind loyalty from the boy. Jim saw a chance and took it. PW easily scooped him up, though. So much for freedom.

"Feisty!" He said with a leer, "I can _almost_ see Reese's attraction. Too bad we can't keep him."

Jimmy struggled all the more as the three perps led the hostages toward the front of the building and outside. Once they all cleared the front door and were nearing the van, Jimmy heard footsteps and heartbeats, and smelled other people in the woods. When Leighton tripped over a root and PW turned his attention toward the downed man, Jimmy felt another opportunity and broke loose from the distracted kidnaper. As he ran, Jimmy shouted, "Chief!" PW leveled his weapon and shot on impulse.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

Banks was in eye shot of the cabin and moving in fast when he saw Jimmy break away from the perp holding him. As PW leveled the gun at Jimmy, intent on shooting him before he got away, despite the boss's warning, Ellison lunged at the man, trying to knock the gun off target. All he succeeded in doing was getting in the way of the bullet. Simon watched as the hostage fell and the captain leveled his own gun at the shooter yelling, "Police. Freeze!"

PW fired at Banks and Simon retuned fire. Both men went down.

By then I had cleared the trees and tried to take in the scene. Everything was happening at once. The other officers pulled their guns and were all hollering warnings for the perps to freeze. PW had been the only one with his gun already drawn. The man who had been holding Ellison reached for his and was shot in the leg by Dawson, who was just clearing the tree-line. The other two threw their hands in the air. Boss, on the other hand, was already in the van, with the motor running, so he gunned it, trying to flee. Rafe shot him in the head.

Taggart had reached Simon by now and was helping him sit up. The captain was holding his left shoulder that was bleeding profusely, but he was alive and conscious, which was more than could be said for PW. Conner had checked the downed perp briefly, shaking her head while Dawson covered the other would be shooters. Rafe and Brown joined the crowd around the van, collecting guns and reassuring the closest hostage, who, I found out later, had literally pissed his pants – not that I could blame him.

I took in that all this was going on, and that Anna had caught up with me, but my main focus never left Jimmy. The boy was standing so still that I was afraid maybe he had zoned. As I approached, I could see that he was trembling and his cheeks were soaked with tears. His eyes never left Ellison, and his head was cocked as though he was listening to something.

"Jimmy?" I approached slowly and spoke quietly. I had no idea how high he had his hearing set and I didn't want to cause him any more pain. "Buddy? Can you look at me Jim?" He didn't look, but he did respond.

"I can't hear his heartbeat, Chief!" I hadn't realized before that day that he even _could_ hear heartbeats, let alone know which was coming from whom. "Is he…?" He tried to continue, but his voice broke and now the sobs he had been barely holding back, broke thru. "He's dead, Chief! They killed him!"

I looked toward Conner who was checking for a pulse. When she looked up, she caught my eye and shook her head. It was all the confirmation Jim needed and he ran full speed, toward the fallen man. When he reached Ellison's side, he hugged him tight and no longer even tried to hold back the sobs.

Everyone went about their jobs solemnly, giving the boy a wide berth. I knelt down on one side of Jim and Anna copied the movement on the other. I rubbed circles on his back and Anna stroked his hair and we sat there like that for what seemed like forever…letting Jimmy grieve.

Somewhere along the line, ambulances and coroner's wagon appeared, along with several black and whites. Bodies were taken away, the scene was processed, and Leighton was checked out by paramedics. Just prior to leaving in the ambulance, the banker knelt beside Ellison and, putting his hand on his dead friend's shoulder, said "I think that went a long way toward fixing things, Bill. Good job." I didn't know then what the man was referring to, and once I found out, I wasn't sure I agreed that Ellison's selfless act actually _fixed_ anything between himself and Jimmy, but it was something for which I'd be eternally grateful. Who would have thought? _Me_ grateful to Ellison…or Ellison performing an unselfish act, for that matter. I guess, when it really counted, he had finally had a heart after all. None of that really made Jimmy feel better at this point, though.

The scene was thinning out, but the three of us just sat beside Ellison's body. Finally, there were only a handful of people left…the three of us, Brown and Rafe, and a lone coroner's wagon. Rafe approached us hesitantly and put a hand on my shoulder.

"Blair. I hate to rush the poor kid, but we really need to go now."

"We should probably get the kid checked out at the hospital, too." Brown added from several steps away. He seemed uncomfortable with all the emotions and had no doubt sent his partner in to deal with us. Poor Rafe didn't look that much more comfortable than Brown, though.

I saw their point, both about leaving and about the hospital, but I was hesitant to rush Jimmy. The poor kid finally accepts that this man is his father, and he loses him. In an effort to save Jimmy, himself, no less. The kid had, in the space of a couple weeks, remembered three loving adult family members from his early childhood and lost every one of them.

Finally, it was Jimmy himself who initiated our leaving. Without saying a word, the boy stood up and started walking in the direction of driveway, where Brown's and Rafe's car still waited for us. Jimmy climbed in the back seat, and pulled out the memo pad and pen that Leighton had no doubt let the boy keep. He sat there throughout the entire trip to the hospital, completely still; except for the effort it took to draw the picture he was working on.

Brown pulled up at the Emergency exit at the hospital, but Jimmy refused to move. He wouldn't answer or look at me when I asked him to get out, just as he hadn't talked or responded with even so much as a grunt, during the entire ride. Brown tried to manhandle the kid out of the seat, but Jimmy started screaming, and Brown looked stricken that he had caused the boy any more unrest.

Simon, who had just been leaving the hospital, having been there all this time questioning Leighton (or waiting until he _could_ question the banker), rushed over to the car when he heard the scream. For being such a grizzly (or wanting people to _think_ he was anyway), he took a soothing tone with Jimmy, and at least got him to stop screaming. He tried to give Jim the same deal as he had me…come into the ER and he'd be seen quickly and sent on his way. Jimmy didn't respond, and he didn't move. He just went back to drawing. At least the screaming didn't reappear. That was a heart-rending sound that no one was ready to hear again. Simon appeared to give up, and re-entered the hospital, only to re-emerge with a doctor in tow. The big police captain talked Jimmy into letting the doctor give him a cursory exam, there in the car. I could have told him that there was nothing _obviously_ wrong with the boy. I had sat right beside him, my hand on his shoulder, the whole way here, as though, if I stopped touching him, he would disappear, or I'd wake up and Jimmy would still be gone. So, I _knew_ that there were no obvious wounds. No blood, no major bumps on the head (Anna had been checking for that while rubbing his hair, along with just trying to soothe him), bruises, but no obvious broken or cracked bones. He wasn't acting like he was in pain, but then he really wasn't reacting to anything. The doctor proclaimed the boy to be in shock (could have told him _that_ too) and told us to watch him and bring him back in if we felt the need. Other than that, without the boy's cooperation, there wasn't much he could do.

Reluctantly, we just took Jim home. He _did_ get out of the car once we got to the house. He didn't even need to be asked. He took his drawing with him and made a bee-line to his art room. I followed him at a distance, but didn't disturb him. As soon as he got there, he took out his oils, and started a painting on the canvas already on the easel. I noticed he had dropped the memo pad in the doorway of his art room, so I bent down and picked it up. On it, I saw what had been taking so much of his attention during the ride home.

On the top page, was a beautiful picture of Ellison…at his current age.

TBC


	15. Chapter 15

Misplaced 15

Jimmy had been holed up in his art room painting picture after picture for the last two hours. Anna, Dottie, and I had each checked on him at least twice. Dottie even went out and bought some of his favorite donuts as a bribe to get him to come down. He hadn't even seemed to hear us, or smell the donuts on the plate Dottie had taken with her. I finally just took a sandwich and some iced tea to him and sat it down on the nearby table in the room, next to the plate of pastries. The last time any of us checked, both plates were still there, untouched, even though we knew that he hadn't eaten anything the entire time he had been held captive. We had all known we would need to give him _some_ space in order to mourn and to (what my mother would call) process the recent events. But it was almost like we didn't even have him back yet. Like Jimmy was still missing. At least I knew he was safe, so that was something. We mutually agreed to give him another hour, but that implied we were going to do something different after that deadline, and to be honest, I hadn't a clue what we _could_ do differently.

Both Dottie and I had checked on him during that time, but it was Anna who made the visit at the hour mark. Apparently Jimmy had decided to do something different all on his own. From upstairs, I heard a frantic "BLAIR!!" and heard Anna running back down the stairs. I heard her talking to Dottie, still nearly hysterical, as I raced toward Jimmy's art room. I about half expected not to find him there…to find that he had been taken again. I'm not sure that what I found was much better. Jimmy lay in the middle of the floor in a deep zone.

"Jimmy," I tried to reach him emotionally while I sank down beside him, "You need to come back now, buddy." He just lay there. "Please, Jim."

Anna and Dottie stood in the doorway, and I knelt helplessly beside my son, rubbing circles on his back, hoping it would help – hoping _something_ would help. I think that since I met Jim, there have been more times that I _didn't_ know what I was doing, than times that I _did._ Dottie said later that that was par for the course for parents, but at the moment, it felt dreadful.

"Blair," Anna whispered, staying where she was, like she didn't want to overload Jimmy any more than it looked like he already was. "What's going on?"

"I'm not sure." I answered honestly, "I think he's put _himself_ in this zone, though. I think the only thing he's overloaded on is emotion." I turned my attention to Jim again. "Come on big guy. Why are you in the jungle? What are you looking for, bud?"

Anna came over to join me. "Blair, got any more of those painkillers?"

"I have _got_ to find a better way to get to the jungle."

Anna went downstairs to retrieve the medication, and I sat beside my unconscious teenager. "Aw, come on, bud. What's going on, big guy?"

Between Dottie and me, we got Jim to his bed in the next room. Anna brought me the painkillers and I stretched out beside my son, on his bed, and waited to be called to the jungle.

I woke up several hours later and found that all I had gotten for polluting my body with meds I didn't really need was a couple hours of pretty good sleep. I always knew that the only way I could get to the jungle, even once I was asleep, was if Jimmy called to me, but it didn't occur to me that he'd ever be in the jungle and _not_ call to me. I was more worried than ever now, as I curled around my unconscious son. I must have been more tired than I thought I was, because at some point I fell back to sleep. When I woke up again, _Jimmy_ was curled around _me_, having finally moved, which hopefully meant he was out of his zone.

I lay there for a while, not sure whether to wake Jimmy or just enjoy having my sleeping (not zoned) child in my arms after so nearly having lost him. Jimmy made up my mind for me when he squirmed a little and looked up at me.

"He's not there, Chief."

Well, here we go. I hadn't a clue how to handle this conversation, but I was _so_ glad that Jimmy was back, and safe, and able to _have_ it. "Who's not where, bud?" I was pretty sure I knew, but I had nothing else to say at the moment.

"My daddy," he answered. Yep, that's who I thought it was. "He wasn't in the jungle, Chief. I looked and looked. I know they killed him, but you said the jungle is the spirit plane, and he still has a _spirit_, right?"

"Aw, bud. I don't really know how that works. _I_ believe he's still a spirit, yes. But, I don't think all spirits necessarily know how to get to the spirit plane. I'm sure if he knew how, he'd meet you there."

"Really?" Jim was sincerely surprised. "He never visited at the Center. But I was hoping he'd visit in the jungle if I gave him enough time to get there and thought about him really hard."

"I'm sure he'd like to visit you there, Jim." I wasn't sure at all, actually, but it was a moot point, now, so I didn't figure the fib would hurt. "I really don't think he knows how." That much was 100 true.

He was heartbroken. "I looked and looked."

We were both starting to repeat ourselves, so I just held him tight, and said, "I know, bud." We lay like that for a while and then he started to cry. I held him even more snuggly, and cried with him.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0

Somewhere in the middle of the night, I got up and left a sleeping Jimmy in the bed. I figured he needed all the rest he could get. When I went downstairs, I found just what I expected to find – two sacked out ladies in my living room. They both live right next door, but here they were – for which I was extremely grateful. I couldn't imagine trying to do this without either one of them.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

We had kept the TV off since we got Jimmy home, and at some time during the evening, while I was waiting to be called to the jungle, Dottie had taken the phone off the hook, and Anna had threatened three TV reporters with possible arrests for trespassing if they didn't get off my lawn. It didn't work. They were still there in the morning. The media was making a circus of this. The gubernatorial frontrunner had been killed. Both of his young sons, one handicapped, had been orphaned as far as they knew. Anna and I had actually been at the bank. The reporters were eager to talk to us. Mr. Leighton had been on TV almost constantly. One thing working in our favor, though, was that they all bought into Ellison's idea of how impaired Jimmy was, so they weren't asking to talk to him. Of course, to the uninitiated, the way Jimmy had acted since we brought him home, did _look_ pretty impaired.

He had at least come down for breakfast, but didn't say a word to any of us. He didn't even pay any attention to Wolf, so the poor dog curled up under the boy's chair, and I _swear_ she actually pouted. Once Jimmy finished eating, he went back to his art room. All three of us tried to talk to him throughout the day, but he didn't respond. He did come down for lunch and dinner, and went to his bedroom by himself when it was bedtime. He hadn't zoned again, but he obviously hadn't 'processed' this whole incident completely, yet.

During the day, Dottie had fielded the phone calls, and Anna fussed at the TV reporters a couple more times before we finally gave a statement. Not before I consulted Kyle Williams of course. The lawyer told me to give a brief statement about what I saw in the bank and to state that I was grateful to Captain Banks and the major crimes department who had worked quickly and efficiently to bring Jimmy back safe and sound, (which, of course, I was). He said that I could mention that Ellison had already provided for Jimmy's welfare by signing papers that would give me guardianship in the event of his death. Kyle said that I should steer clear of calling Jimmy my son, or saying anything about the adoption papers, at least for now. Ellison was popular _before_ his death, but he had almost achieved deity status at _this_ point, and my lawyer told me that there just was no reason to deal with those issues since we didn't really have to. There had been speculation among the media about who would raise the Ellison children, so Kyle felt I _did_ need to address that much.

Another issue that needed to be addressed, both with the news people and with Jimmy, was the funeral. It had been slated for the following day and I hadn't a clue what to do about it. It was sure to be chaos; teaming with press, packed with anyone from the public who can find space, and even supporters of the opposite party who had been trying to slam Ellison throughout the campaign, but somehow now thought he was a national treasure who needed to have a proper send-off. Jimmy didn't really seem to be having trouble with sensory spikes much anymore, but this was sure to be a situation that would overload _my_ senses. I knew Jimmy was expected to attend, but I didn't give a rat's ass for what the public wanted if I thought it would be detrimental to my son. On the other hand, maybe this would give Jimmy some way to lay this issue to rest – 

"provide closure," my mother would say. Anna and Dottie refused to give opinions. Ah, the privileges of being a parent. I finally went up to talk to Jimmy. I explained what a funeral was and told him he could see his father's _body_ one last time, but that his spirit wouldn't be there (as far as I knew) any more than it had been in the jungle. I finally just point-blank _asked_ him if he wanted to go. He had looked at me (for the first time during the conversation) and nodded, then went back to his drawing until he got tired and put himself to bed later.

So, that was the way I spent my first full day after having my son returned to me…holed up in my house with my two closest friends and my silent sentinel _inside_, and a hoard of sensation-seekers _outside_. Fun day.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0

The funeral itself was a blur. I was too focused on Jimmy. Throughout the entire thing, the boy just stood like a statue. If I hadn't seen him blink and shift his weight occasionally, I would have sworn he was zoned, standing up. The press had accosted us as we drove up to the cemetery where the graveside funeral was being held, but one look at Jimmy's blank face, and they pretty much left him alone. They had a few questions for me and Anna, then they moved on to better sources of sensationalism.

During one of the few times my eyes swept the crowd, I noticed a boy, about 9 or 10 years old. I recognized him from Sally's pictures – Stephen. He didn't look anything like Jimmy, except for the blank expression. But, where Jimmy's was from overwhelming emotion, Stephen's seemed to be more from boredom. Sally stood by his side and seemed to try to comfort him, but Stephen didn't seem interested in anything that was going on. He had fidgeted and yawned, and when Sally fussed at him to stand still, he put his hands behind his back and stood at something close to parade rest for the remainder of the service – absolutely emotionless. It was sad, when I thought of it. Ellison had two beautiful boys – neither of whom he has known at all. One at least remembered enough good times to mourn the man. The younger, it seemed, didn't have even that. I wasn't sure who to be the most sorry for – the boys, for not having the loving father and the wonderful childhood they could have had, or the father, who willingly just threw all of that away. I didn't even realize I was crying (for all three, most likely) until Anna reached over and wiped away a tear. As everyone started toward the coffin, one by one, to say a final goodbye, I looked at Jim, only to find tears running down his cheeks as well. When I put a hand on his back and tried to encourage him forward, he just turned around, looked me in the eye, and said, "You're right Chief. He's not here either." Then he turned toward the car and walked off.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

The next several days ran into each other. There was the reading of the will, which I attended on Jimmy's behalf, at the request of Ellison's lawyer. William had left the house to Stephen, with Sally having a lifetime right to live there and to maintain the house with a sizable trust fund set aside for just that purpose. Stephen would continue to live at his private school and come home to visit with Sally when she and the school saw fit. Sally was named Stephen's guardian, but in name only. His half of the rest of the estate was to be handled by Ellison's lawyer. Jimmy had actually been bequeathed half of all of Ellison's estate aside from the house and the company. 

It was also put into a trust fund to be handled by the lawyer, and was to be used to provide for the boy's needs. Ellison had stipulated that Jim was to remain in the Center until he was 18, and then be placed into a specified institution. I called _my_ lawyer in a hurry, just to make sure that no longer held any weight. There was no way my son was going to an institution for the rest of his adult life. In fact, I had doubted that he would even stay at the Center for much longer. Kyle assured me that Ellison's ability to dictate such things ended when he signed the adoption papers. He just hadn't changed it in his will. Subconsciously, I had _known_ that, but I had wanted to make sure.

Jimmy zoned one more time, the night of the funeral, but didn't stay in it long. He told me he had had to try one more time. He was still drawing pictures, but they now included all three of his lost relatives. He was still rather aloof, but was talking to us more and more. The press was finally on to other news and really didn't bother us much anymore. Leighton had stopped by to talk to Jim, and the boy had actually responded to him, if somewhat less enthusiastically than was normal for Jimmy. Mike and Linda came over numerous times over the following days and Mike and Jim _both_ painted in the art room for hours at a time.

By about a week after the funeral, Jimmy was more or less responding normally to everything – though not as actively as we had come to expect. He was back in class at the Center, though not participating much. He was staying with me every night, and still spent a lot of time drawing, but was now starting to draw other people in his life as well as the three deceased relatives. He and Mike had made plans to paint a mural on the art room wall, of the boy's parents and grandmother. Mike had told him that that way, they would all be able to watch him while he painted, and Jimmy could see them whenever he wanted. That seemed to go a long way toward helping Jimmy get back to normal. By the next weekend, he actually seemed to be getting a little excited about the project. Mike was coming over on Saturday and we were all going to work on the mural most of the day, as long as Jimmy stayed interested. Mike and Jimmy were the resident artists, while Anna and I were on gopher detail. All week, Jimmy had been working on a drawing that Mike would then enlarge for him on the wall, but he wouldn't let me see it until Friday night. As I was putting him to bed, he took a folded piece of paper out of the drawer of his bedside table, and handed it to me.

"These are all the people who love me and I want them with me all the time."

I hid the hurt I felt at the thought that the Ellison's were _all_ the people who loved him. Now was not the time for me to question my place in his life. I was just _so_ glad he was finally coming back to us. He was finally starting to put this behind him. I slowly opened the paper, and was shocked by what I found. A handsome young Ellison, with his arm around his wife, with his mother in law slightly behind them – that part I had expected. What surprised me was the fact that there were three more people in the picture. I was standing just beside Ellison, with my arm around Anna, and Dottie slightly behind us.

Before I could say a word, Jimmy explained, "My yesterday family, and my today family."

Now it was my turn to be silenced by emotion. I stared at it for the longest time, and finally threw my arms around my son. "It's absolutely beautiful, Jim."

The End


End file.
